


And So it Begins

by auselysium



Series: Queer as Magic [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Brian/OMC - Freeform, Crossover Pairings, Draco/OFC - Freeform, M/M, Post DH, pre 101
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-16 11:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3486338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auselysium/pseuds/auselysium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the continuation of Nothing, as it Should Be where Brian and Draco stay the main pairing.</p><p>Part 2 of Queer as Magic verse.</p><p>Will Brian and Draco finally get their beginning?  How much will Brian be able to reach out?  And how much will Draco reveal?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The next day, the streets are clear.  Businesses reopen.  Life in Pittsburgh returns to normal. 

It is time for Draco to go. 

Brian drives him back to his place on the other side of town.  The car ride is silent, just as it had been that first night.  There is no talk of anything that has happened between them or what it all could possibly mean.  Brian says nothing about his drunken confession the night before or the look of possibility that had been in his eyes.  There is no mention of waking up with Brian's fingers tangled in Draco's hair, his chest pressed against flush against his back.  And Draco says nothing about how he had never felt that desired or happy in his whole life as he had in the past two days. 

Brian lets the car idle once they pull up to Draco's building.  Leaving all that could be said, unspoken.  Draco puts his hand on Brian's knee, unable to help the melancholy that has seeped into his bones, even though he knows it is ridiculous.  How can he feel sad about losing something he was never supposed to have in the first place? 

“Thank you," Draco says.   _For the ride, for turning me on, for making me come, for making me think, for reminding me how it feels to be alive._   Brian covers Draco's hand with his, giving it a squeeze.  Draco moves to pull away, but Brian does not let go. 

“I don’t believe in love,”  He says.   Draco turns back, given pause by Brian's seemingly out of place statement.  Brian is so beautiful in his discomfort, his eyes focusing on something outside the car. 

“I don’t,”  He reiterates.  “It’s messy and complicated and you end up hurt or bitter or unhappy.  I don’t do boyfriends.  I don’t do relationships.  I don’t do romance or flowers or candlelight.  But …” 

Draco waits. 

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.” 

 _You have no idea._  

“So if you’re around…come by Woody’s tomorrow night.  I’m meeting some friends there.”  He laughs and Draco can tell he feels ridiculous.  “I’ll buy you a drink.” 

Draco smiles and squeeze his hand back.  “I’d say it’s a date, but I assume you don’t do those either?” 

“Nope.”  He replies easily with a smile of his own.

“Well, maybe I’ll see you there, then, hmm?”  Draco kisses him quickly on the cheek and gets out of the car, wondering if this is more of beginning than he had originally thought.   

Draco walks into his apartment and drops his keys on the side table next to the door.  The place seems smaller and it doesn’t smell the way he remembered it.  It feels like he has been away for months when in reality is has been less than 48 hours.  How could things have changed so much, in such a short amount of time? 

Draco drops to the couch, a rank and dirty old thing.  The springs creak under the weight of his body.   _I should get a new couch,_ he thinks. 

The things in this apartment are cheap, poorly made, most having come with the place when he rented it.  He had barely had any muggle, American money when he got here, as transferring any more than he had would have looked very suspicious.  So he had lived without a bed for the first month, sleeping on the couch until he had worked enough to afford one.  He bought the tiny twin mattress he currently sleeps on at one of those large, discount stores.  It had still used up an entire paycheck. 

Once he started working more and saving up some money, it would have been easy to buy a bigger bed.  But buying anything muggle, anything to make his life here more comfortable, had seemed out of the question.   

His life here in Pittsburgh was supposed to be temporary.  So by investing in anything of value - high-end sheets, a television…a friend – it would make this world less temporary and more permanent.   

And that was Draco's worst fear:  That he would be trapped in this Muggle world for the rest of his life.  Surrounded by people who, if they did find out what he was, would undoubtedly recoil in fear. 

But now, the thought of staying is not so completely petrifying.  For the first time in a while, Draco feels hope.  Perhaps it is better to look ahead, to seek happiness no matter where he is.  And it is Brian’s voice inside his head that answers _,You’re damn right it is._  

The remembered sound of his clipped cadences brings a smile to Draco's lips.  He slouches further into the cushions, letting his head fall back as he conjures the feeling of Brian's breath on his skin.  The vibration from his moans, rumbling against his chest.  The ease with which Brian moves through the world, navigating his limbs along side Draco's. 

He is hard before he even realizes it.

Not because he needs to get off, but because he wants to cement the fantasy of Brian firmly in his head does he undo his belt and fly, letting his hand work its way to his cock.

He sighs gently at the familiar touch, pulling a few lazy strokes up towards the tip before flattening his palm and letting his fingertips toy with his all the while imagining it is Brian's firm hand instead. 

Draco pulls in one shaky breath and then another and then holds it, clenching his eyes closed.  His right hand moves faster, while his left clutches the edge of the couch. Every sensation is heightened as his lungs begin to burn.  He can feel his heart pound faster in his chest as instinctual panic mixes with pleasure.  He edges closer and closer to climax, white dots appearing behind his eyes and finally, the air rushes out of his lungs when he can’t keep it in anymore.  He quickly takes in another breath to hold.

His hand keeps up its rapid pace as he imagines the smell of Brian's skin.  The feel of his sheets.  The fullness of Brian inside him.  Draco finds himself panting his name, short gasps of “Bri…” The second syllable of his name getting choked somewhere in his throat as he reaches the breaking point, shouting shout out some unintelligible cry as he comes. 

 The sound seems strange in his empty apartment, and his satisfied sighs soon turn into laughter.   

  _If a man tosses off alone, does he cry out?_   Draco laughs at his own pathetic attempt at whit. 

 “Well, this one clearly does,”  He says to the room.

But then after two days straight of mind blowing sex with Brian, who could really blame him for shouting out his name? His sex appeal and magnetism are irresistible.  But for Draco, the attraction goes so far beyond the physical.  He realizes he needs to _know_ him.  To learn how Brian can live so comfortably in his own body, unashamed of his past or life choices. 

And Draco feels in small way, that Brian might just need him as well.  He has seen only glimpses of them, but Brian's dark places seem strangely familiar to Draco's and perhaps they can cancel each other’s out, letting two negatives become a positive.

Draco opens his eyes to see the mess all over his shirt.  Even after all his orgasms in the past few days, he is a virile young man and Draco is suddenly very much in need of a shower.

As he gets up off the couch, the smile on his face is even bigger than before.  Not only because he'd just had the best wank he's had in ages, but also because, for the first time in just as long, he has plans for Saturday night. 

All thanks to a certain, Mr. Kinney.*

*

Woody’s is packed.

Draco steps towards the bar when he doesn’t see Brian right away.  The bar tender recognizes him from the other night and instead of carding him, he simply smiles and asks what he's having.  Draco orders a pint.  His need is not so desperate tonight, so his alcohol is not so hard.

He sips his beer slowly, taking in the sights around him and thinks back on his first few days away from magic.  It had felt as if some part of him had been cut away, leaving him naked and exposed without his wand.  He had found himself reaching out for it unconsciously, never having been without it over the long months of the war, when he would not even sleep without it clutched in his hand.  Without it, he had wallowed and floundered.  Uncertain, and even a bit afraid.

But eventually his Slytherin instinct for survival had kicked in.  He began to quietly observe, and after a week of lurking, finally ventured out in the world.  He needed food and money and something to fill his days. 

The job was easy to get, "No experience necessary".  The espresso machine was a mind-boggling contraption and from the amount of training his manager gave him, it seemed like most muggles didn’t know how to use it either so there had been no problem there.  His let his Englishness be an excuse for not knowing how to use the muggle money, played up his blondness when he didn’t recognize the names Bill Clinton and Tony Blair.  Acted shy, which is so often interpreted incorrectly, so that people would simply leave him be. 

But now, though he does not feel at ease or at home, he is not lost.  Draco knows how to make it through his day.  Get a taxi.  Pay for groceries.  Answer the telephone.  He recognizes the overly dramatic game show that is being shown on that thing called a television.  He understands what the bright posters for upcoming community events are advertising.  He would even go so far as to say that, on some level, he appreciates muggles and how comfortable they have made the world without the help of magic.  

Some of the men at the bar are attractive in their own right.  But most are either trying too hard, having spent too many hours in the gym, or are too comely and awkward to even warrant another look. 

Their plainness makes him sit up a little straighter.  Smirk a little deeper.  Draco has already caught the eyes of several men sweeping up and down his lithe frame.  Taking in his slim, jeans, which show off his “assets” quite nicely with an unsubtle eye.  His heather- gray sweater, sleeves shoved up to his elbows, hangs smoothly over his narrow shoulders and chest.  Mother always thought Draco was too skinny, but these men didn’t seem to mind.

And neither does Brian.

He finally sees him, sitting towards the back of the bar at a high, circular table, surrounded by a ragtag group of men.  Draco lets his lips and brow soften, but he keeps his expression nonplussed as he catches and holds that radiant gaze.   _Did he get even more stunning in the last day?_  

Brian returns the weighted look, letting his eyes speak to Draco across the room, much like he had only a few nights before.  But there is no hunt in them tonight.  Simply recognition.  Memory.  And a veiled form of relief.  He wasn’t sure Draco would come.  Or that he’d be so pleased that he had.

With a gentle inclining of his head, he invites Draco to join him at the table.  Draco grabs his beer and saunters over, not wanting to seem over eager.

“Fancy seeing you here,”  Brian says.

“Yes, imagine that.”  Brian grabs a stool from another table, pulling up next to his place at the table.  

The three other men sitting with Brian stare at Draco in various states of interest or, in the case of the small dark man at Brian’s left elbow, disgust. 

“Draco, this is Emmett Honeycutt, Theodore Schmitt and my best friend since I was 14, Michael Novotney.  Everyone this is Draco Malfoy.”  

Draco says hello, smiling as warmly as he can and takes his seat.   

“Draco and I were snow bound together for the last few days.”

“So that’s why you didn’t call me?  You were with him?”  The one Draco now knows as Michael says.

“Well, you couldn’t expect me to be all alone could you?  I could have frozen.”  Brian says lightly, garnering grins from Ted and Emmett and an eye roll from Michael. 

 “Well, he is quite the cutie.”  Emmett says, stirring his pink drink with gusto.

 “Yes, even by your standards, Bri.”  Ted adds.

 “And the accent.  I am a total sucker for English accents," Emmett gives Draco and wink and he blushes.  

 “Isn’t he a bit young?”  Michael says, tossing a nasty glare in Draco direction. 

 Brian leans back, giving Draco an appraising eye, as if considering that question for the first time himself.  “How old are you?”

 “I’ll be twenty in June.” 

 “Don’t tell the bartender,”  Ted mumbles.

 “Don’t worry,” Draco says, looking back towards the bar, the memory of his spell tingling on his fingertips.  “He and I have an understanding.”  Draco turns back to Brian.  “Why how old are you?” 

The group laughs and Brian grumbles, taking a large gulp of his drink. 

“He’ll be 29 in May.  Thinks the world is ending,”  Ted answers for him. 

“That’s not  _so_  bad.”  Draco says, and then lean in towards Brian, speaking in a stage whisper so everyone can hear.  “I’ve had older.”

“Oh, do tell.”  Emmett exclaims, ready for the dish.

“The first guy who ever…you know.”  Draco gestures with his hand, clarifying his meaning.

“How old was he?”  Ted asks.

“Few years younger than my father.  36, 37.  I was 16.  He was my potio…political science professor,”  Draco fixes his fumble quickly.

“Ooohoo…scandal!”  Emmett says laughing.

“That almost beats your story, Brian.”  Ted says, with a smirk.

“Yeah. _Almost_.”  Brian points at himself with a thumb.  “14.  Gym teacher.”

Draco shakes his head.  “Why am I not surprised?”  

This warrants a grin from Brian and another laugh from the whole table. Except for Michael, of course, who still seems completely put off by his presence.

Time flies. Draco laughs at Emmett’s imitations, even though he has no idea who this “Cher” person is.  He catches bits of an old story about Brian’s high school days, as the two old friends rehash it for their own mutual amusement.  Draco finds himself talking to Theodore and actually enjoying it, nodding along to his surprisingly intelligent commentary on the fin de siecle art exhibit, currently on display at the Pittsburgh Art Museum, feeling slightly sheepish when he admits he didn’t even know Pittsburgh had an art museum. 

At some point he feels Brian’s hand on his inner thigh under the table where no one else can see.  The touch is heavy and unexpected and it makes his stomach flutter.  A few minutes later, Brian leans towards him to catch his ear. “You want to get out of here?”

Draco looks at him slyly.  “Thought you’d never ask.”

Brian grabs his coat and throws some money on the table.  “I’m leaving.”  He says bluntly.  
  
“With him?”  Michael asks as Draco stands up too. 

“So what if I am?”  Brian asks, a hint of venom piercing the words.  
  
“It’s just…You…Un-fucking-believable.”  Michael sputters then huffs, arms crossed and indignant.

Brian plants a kiss on the top of Michael’s dark head and whispers.  “Don’t do the jealous wife routine.  It doesn’t become you.”  Michael’s head snaps up, a well-practiced look of outrage on his face. 

“I am  _not_  jealous.” He states, in overly loud tones.  There is a shared snicker from Ted and Emmett and Draco understand his behavior towards him much more completely

Brian simply rolls his eyes and makes his way towards the door.

Once outside Draco starts to head in the direction of the parking lot where he can already see the profile of Brian’s jeep towering above the others.  But then Brian's body is pressed against him from behind.  He can feel, as well as see, his warm breath as it passes against his ear.

“Where do you think you’re going?”  A kiss works it’s way under the collar of Draco's jacket.

“Your car, ”  Draco says, stating what he thinks is the obvious. 

“Wrong.  Too far.”  His long legs begin banging against the back of Draco's as he leads them to a small alleyway.  

There are a few other men in various states of coupling there too, not dissuaded by the cold.  Draco forgets their presence quickly as Brian pushes him towards the wall.  Draco catches himself with his hands, as if in a vertical push up. 

Brian starts to undo the buttons of his long overcoat, the heavy layer of wool falling away, creating a small pocket of warmth in front of him.  Brian stands behind, letting his back take the brunt of the wind.  Is it any wonder Draco feels so very protected in that moment?  

“Fuck,” Brian pants as he undoes Draco's belt.  “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

 “What?  Jerking me off in a freezing cold alley?”  Draco grunts, managing somehow to still sound sarcastic. 

“No.”  Brian laughs gently.  “Getting my hands on you.  Filling up your perfect ass with my perfect cock.”  He whispers, resting his head on Draco's shoulder.

“Perfect are we?”

“Well,” He smiles as his fingers curl carefully around Draco's length.  “I am.”

“I’ll have you know, you are not fucking me here.”    

As if on cue, Brian shudders at the cold.  “No, I suppose not.”  Draco's breath catches as Brian thumbs his slit.  “I’ll just have to wait to rip these clothes off you until we get back to my place.  I’m gonna spank you until your ass turns pink and then rim you until you’re screaming for it and finally...finally, when I slam into you, it’ll be so fucking hard you’ll pass out.”

Brian's voice is rough, raw, and his touch matches.  He is not delicate or careful, but fast with a frenzied edge.  Draco gasps, but he does not complain.  Quite the opposite, he moans and begs for more.

“And you know what?”  He whispers.  “You’ll love every second of it. Because you can’t get enough of it.  Can’t get enough of feeling me inside you.  The way my cock fills you up.  Splits you open.  You just can't get enough, can you?”  Draco whimpers, a pathetic half sob.  His nails scrape against the wall and some of the brick crumble underneath them. 

Draco swallows thickly as Brian presses closer.  “Can you?”  He asks again, softer, more insistent. 

Finally the word "No," forms and escapes Draco's lips in the form of a cry just as theicy burn of his orgasm takes him.

He tucks Draco back into his pants, then places his hands next to Draco's on the wall.  He is still for a moment. “Good.  Because I am not even close to being done with you.”

He pushes off the wall and starts walking towards the opening of the alley.   “You coming?” 

Part of Draco's brain tells him to turn him down.  Leave him wanting more.  But then another part of him screams that he should be sent to the Psych Ward at Saint Mungo’s if he did that, especially after the images Brian put into him head.

So he threads his fingers through his hair, pulls his scarf tight around his ears, clears his throat...and follows Brian.


	2. Chapter 2

The cold lets up later that week.

The bitter wind dissipates and an almost spring like temperature permeates the air.  This is Draco's second full winter up against Lake Eerie and he has begun to familiarize himself with the fickle weather life with this large lake can bring.  One day: sunshine and gentle breezes.  The next day: blizzards and frigid cold.   

Work has been mobbed.  People ready to pretend like there isn’t another month of winter left come in wanting their coffee iced or blended together into some sugary, whipped cream covered slush.   

The work is menial and it is, by in large, boring and repetitive.  Draco can only imagine his father’s wrath if he ever knew he was working this kind of job.   _“A Malfoy does not serve.  A Malfoy_ is _served.”_   

But then again, Draco's father isn’t in a state where he can know anything anymore.  He cannot feel rage or furry.  Joy or contentment.  He feels…nothing.  Not even peacefulness.  He is simply an empty shell.  One that eats and sleeps and shits, but cannot do anything on his own.  An infant in a man’s body.  But an infant that cannot even cry to express pain.  

Draco wonders if the guards bathe him.  If he is given new robes on occasion.  He wonders how on earth the Ministry ever agreed to partner up with such terrible creatures as the dementors and, if his father had known the emptiness that was to follow, would have begged his punishers for death instead.  There is no doubt that he would have.

But mostly Draco wonders why he even cares.  After all his father did to their family, all the danger, all the demands.  Why should Draco even give this man a second thought?  

“Draco…”  

He does not hear his name at first, too caught up in the thoughts about his father.  It is not often he lets himself think of him, for this very reason.  Thinking of his father leaves him crushed.  They make his life seem so very disappointing.   

“Draco.”  

He finally hears it and he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts.  The call comes from the assistant manager.  _Kelly or Kendra or_  – he checks her name tag –  _Kelsey_.  She is not much older than Draco and is almost always here with him in the mornings. She reminds Draco of a slightly prettier, slightly bustier version of Potter’s mudblood.   

 _Granger_ , Draco reprimands himself.   _Her name is Hermione Granger_.   _I lost the right to use that term a long time ago, especially in reference to her._   His blood may be pure, but it is by no means clean. 

“There is some guy asking for you.”  Kelsey says. 

“Huh?”  His first thought is panic.  Some Ministry official, come to tell him that his mother is dead or his father defiled or his judgment revoked.  Or worse, some former Death Eater ready to unleash a killing curse in the middle of a Muggle coffee shop.  But then Draco sees the glint in Kelsey’s eye.   

“Some guy wants to talk to you.  That one over there in the suit.”  She looks over her shoulder to a man staring at one the kitsch paintings on the wall. 

Even from behind, Brian’s appearance nearly knocks him over.  Gone are his low-slung jeans and sleeveless black tees. The image of the reckless party boy is replaced by his alter ego.  A new Brian Draco has yet to see.  A wealthy and well-dressed business man who could, in no way, be the same man who a few nights ago had had his tongue so far up Draco's ass that he felt it in his chest. 

“You can take your break now.  If you want,”  Kelsey says softly, giving him a conspiratorial grin.  Draco can only nod, his eyes never straying from Brian’s form. 

The slate-gray suit is exquisitely cut.  The coat hitting perfectly on his shoulders and the trousers falling flawlessly into a perfect break over his glossy shoes.  A red shirt, with an equally red silk tie, illuminates his golden skin.  His hair is shiny, neatly styled.  The heavy wool over coat, slung over his arm, is long, the fabric rich.  Probably a cashmere blend.   

He turns as Draco approaches and gives him one of those looks he is so adept at giving.  Not a smile, but a gentle curving of his lips.  A relaxing of his face.  A slight lowering of his guard.  He is starting to feel comfortable around Draco, if not quite open or safe.  But then it has only been a week since that first night, and for Brian, this is rapid progress. 

“Nice suit.”  Draco says simply.                       

“Nice apron.”  Brian replies, indicating the dreadful green thing Draco still has on over his long sleeve tee shirt and jeans.  Draco glares at him playfully and a smile finally cracks Brian's lips.   

Draco can feel Brian's eyes sweep over his body as he unties the apron and pulls it off over his head, exposing just the smallest line of his stomach as he does.  When their eyes meet again, Brian's are noticeably darker.    

He probably didn’t come for coffee.  Draco swallows. 

“I’m on break.”   

It is all he has to say before he pushes Draco in the direction of the men’s room. 

The door is slammed shut and the lock is turned.  There is no preamble to the passion that consumes them.  Simply a wicked grin and the loosening of Brian's tie.  Brian seems almost desperate for a taste of Draco and seeing that need, Draco suddenly has a twisted wish to muss that perfect hair, stain that designer suit.  To somehow make sure that this refined man is still the one who can ravish him like no other. 

Brian throws his coat over the sink and tosses his briefcase in the corner.  Draco's useless apron is ripped from his grasp and thrown on the floor.   Brian pushes him back against the door, his lips pressing to his.  Nudging and urging Draco's tongue out to play.  It does not need much encouragement.  Draco soaks up the taste of his mouth.  Crisp and clean, with a hint of spice.  A surprised moan bursts from the back of Draco's mouth as he grinds himself against him.  

Draco trails his hands up Brian's arms, feeling those firm muscles underneath the quality fabric.  He grabs hold of his red tie, pulling him in closer and suddenly Draco is back in a different bathroom, grabbing onto a green and silver tie, being kissed and handled, by a much younger, much less experienced lover. 

Blaise was the first boy Draco ever kissed.  Ever sucked.  The first one that ever made him think that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to be into cock.  It had felt so good at the time because it had felt so dangerous.  Their fumblings had felt scandalous and racy.   _If people find out…_ Draco had breathed into Blaise's mouth after that first unexpected hand job, both shocked by how effortless it was to be together.  

But now as Draco pushes Brian away, using the tie as leverage so he can spin him around, pushing him back up against the wall, it feels so good because it feels so right.   

Draco drops to his knees and this action alone elicits a breathy “Fuck…” from Brian.  He throws his head back against the door with a soft thud and Draco is half temped to shush him.  But then Brian's erection, straining and jumping under the thin fabric of his pants, makes Draco realize there are better things to do with his mouth at the current moment. 

While Brian may be the one receiving the bulk of the pleasure, the sensations Draco feels while giving him head are undeniable.  The heaviness of his cock on his tongue.  The irony of satiny soft skin surrounding his ridged shaft.  He guides Brian's length between his lips taking all of him in, and then carefully lets the sensitive head glance across edge of his teeth as he pulls back.  It is a cruel trick, taught to Draco by Blaise himself.  It is a risky maneuver, but if done delicately enough, one that Draco knows makes the insides quiver. 

Brian gasps sharply.  And Draco can tell by the way his fingers tense where they cradle the back of his skull, that it had been a good risk.   

This is not the time or place to drag out his impending orgasm.  So Draco blows him fast and hard.  Surely a passerby would hear what is happening out in the hallway but Draco can’t be bothered to care.  All that matters is that Brian came here to find him.  He sought Draco out.  He chose him. 

After Brian comes with a decisive grunt, Draco stands, going to the sink to wash his hands.  He is hard, desperately so in fact.  But whatever this is between them, it is still too delicate to ask for reciprocation.  In the loft, Draco had felt strong and sure, safely cocooned in Brian's world.  But they are in the real world now, and he does not know the rules. 

Brian still leans against the door, breathing heavy, a pleased smile on his face.   

“That’s better than a shot of espresso to get you through the rest of your day,”  He says, zipping his pants back up.  Draco dries off his hands and leans back against the sink, hoping his erection is not too glaringly obvious.  Brian picks up his coat and briefcase, handing Draco back his apron and for a moment Draco thinks that is it.  That Brian is just going to leave without another word. 

Until… 

“So, how’ve you been?”  He asks.   

Draco exhales.

“Oh, you know.  Same old, same old.”   

“Did you have fun on Saturday?” 

“Your friends are very nice.”  
  
“I meant afterwards.”  He enunciates slowly. 

Draco grins.  “That too.” 

 “Good.”  They look at each other for a moment, each remembering how hard Draco had come when Brian had fucked him over the back of his couch Sunday morning before he left.  Brian clears his throat.   _  
_

“Well, your break must almost be over.”   

Draco nods.  "Must be."

Brian steps forward and kisses him gently on the mouth,  barely pulling away from his lips once the kiss breaks.  Then Brian's his hand is there, firmly grasping his still hard cock through his jeans.  

“Come by tonight”  He whispers.  “We’ll take care of this.” 

One tempting squeeze and his hand is gone. And so is Brian.

*

The elevator rises slowly with that familiar whine and like one of Pavlov’s dogs, Draco's libido stirs awake.

Of course it had never really gone to sleep after his mid-morning tryst with Brian.  Time had never ticked by so slowly.  Only when he had been waiting for his trail verdict had the second hand been crueler.  Or perhaps that time he had stood, his wand raised against a defenseless man and had to choose.  Or of course the day the Dark Lord was killed - those twenty four hours that had felt like a week.

_So perhaps I exaggerate._

But a part of Draco is relieved, amused even, that now the thing that lengthens his days is the time he must wait between orgasms.

The elevator jerks to a stop and he pulls up the grate.  The door to the loft is half open and he can hear two voices speaking in raised tones.  He steps out of the elevator but lingers on the landing to listen to what unfolds. 

Brian’s sleek tones are easily recognized and eventually, Draco is able to place Michael’s voice too. 

“You promised me you’d go.” 

“Mikey.  Did you honestly think I wanted to go to see  _X-men_  with you?  And at the midnight premiere no less with all those weirdos dressed up as the characters from the movie?  I mean, seriously how long have you know me?”  Brian speaks with the exasperated tones one might use with a child. 

“Even if you didn’t want to see it, I thought you’d still want to go to be with me.  You know how much I’ve been looking forward to seeing this!" 

“I told you.  I can’t go.  I’ve got someone coming over.” 

“Will you at least tell me who?” 

“Does it matter?”  Brian asks. 

“Yes it fucking matters!  If I am getting stood up, it better be for the hottest trick in all of Pittsburgh!  Who is it?”   

“Just some kid.” 

A pause as Michael’s mind works. 

“That blond kid from the other night?” 

When Brian says nothing Draco's heart beings to race. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!  You’re breaking our plans for him?  For that twink?” 

“That twink happens to be best fuck I’ve had in ages,”  Brian says, an angry edge creeping into his voice. 

“Oh right,” Michael says sarcastically.  “Cause there is nothing more important to you in the world than getting your dick sucked, huh, Brian?” 

“He already did that this afternoon,”  Brian's voice is playful, but Michael is clearly not amused.

“Well I certainly hope his ass is worth hurting your best friend over!” 

Draco suddenly realizes he might not want to know how Brian will respond to that so he quickly makes his move.  Draco steps into the doorway, right into Brian's line of sight.  Brian sees him and his shoulders relax.     

“Bad time?”  Draco says lightly. The look Michael gives him could not be any more vicious if he were Voldemort himself.   

“No,” Michael flaps his hands, exasperated.  “I was just leaving.”  He whips past Draco, nearly snarling as he leaves the loft with a resounding slam of the door. 

Brian pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head slightly as he goes to the liquor cabinet and pulls out two glasses and a bottle of something strong.  As he pours, he looks up and asks, “How much of that did you hear?” 

“Enough to know that I’m not Michael’s favorite person.” 

Brian sighs and Draco cannot tell if he is still exasperated by Michael’s tirade or simply embarrassed by his friend’s behavior. “Michael has the ability to sound like a spoiled four year old. Which is really quite a talent considering that as a four year old his mother didn’t have the money to spoil him, so I don’t really know where he learned it.”  He hands Draco his glass, looking at him squarely.  “Just ignore him.  It’s what I usually do.” 

“You said you’ve been friends with him since you were 14?”  Brian nods.  “That’s a long time to ignore someone.  Why bother?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“If he is such a royal pain, why stay friends with him?”  Draco asks, hoping it sounds more curious than malicious.  As much as Michael clearly hates him, he has no reason to dislike him.  At least not yet.   

Brian thinks.  He moves to sits on the edge of his couch and picks up a cigarette, rolling it back and forth between his fingers. 

Clearly, this is a question he has pondered many times, only to always come up with the same answer. 

“He's not..."  He pauses then starts again.  "He's not always like that.  He's been through…everything with me.  He’s seen me at my best and my worst.  His mom…She’s like a mother to me.  He puts up with my bullshit that I know a lot of other people wouldn’t.  He’s been there for me when no one else has been.  He’s funny and always up for a good time.  He’s good to me.  He’s…loyal.” 

“Ah…”  Draco cuts him off.  “Well there it is then.  Loyalty is not something to take lightly.”  Draco walks over so he can rest his hip on the edge of the desk opposite the living room as he continues.   “Because without it, friendship becomes obedience and a friend becomes a lackey.  And trust me I’ve had both and I know which one to value more.” 

Crabbe and Goyle.  Both blessed with brute strength and alarmingly dull whit.  Who, in the end, showed the difference in their loyalty during the fiasco in the Room of Requirement.  Crabbe set the Fiendfyre that would take his own life, putting everyone else in great risk at the same time because he thought Draco was no longer worth remaining loyal to.  While Goyle had listened to Draco's pleas not to kill Potter.  He had trusted him and stayed true to him, so he had ensured he was safely on Weasley’s broom, before following closely behind on Potter’s.  Perhaps neither of them was smart enough to know they were taking such a stand, but Draco did.  And faced with the same situation again, he would make the same choice.      

“Ultimately though,"  Draco starts again, "Loyalty, and friendship for that matter, only works when it is reciprocal.”  Brian’s jaw works, his eyes flitting from Draco's face to his glass.  The words are clearly hitting home.  So Draco takes a deep breath and slices to the core of the Brian/Michael dilemma.  “Even those whose mind might be clouded by emotions more complex than simple friendship can only take so much mistreatment.  Desperate love and blind hope will only take you so far.”  Draco speaks pointedly, yet gently.   

“That obvious, huh?” 

“I imagine Michael has felt that way about you for a long time.” 

A small voice at the back of Draco's head whispers,  _And who can_ _blame him?_

Brian shakes his head, sadly.  “Things will never be the way he wants them.  I just don’t have that in me…not for him. He’s a like a brother.  My best friend.” 

“Then  _be_  that best friend.  Keep your word.  Go to his movie,”  Draco says, indicating the door with a toss of his head.  Brian stands, a soft smile tugging at his lips. 

“But,” he beings as he saunters over to Draco, “You and I had a rather large hard-on to take care of, if I’m not mistaken.”   Brian presses himself against Draco, arching his body back against the edge of the desk. 

Almost against Draco's own will, he thrusts up into that glorious weight as Brian's lips brush over the exposed skin of his neck. 

Draco knows that in a matter of seconds Brian  could be moving inside him or dropped to his knees in front of him.  Both their minds clear of any and all guilt about Michael.  And Draco knows it would be amazing, because it is always amazing.  But something inside yanks at his better judgement.  Tells him that tonight it is more important to take care of Brian than to take care of his sex drive.

So Draco pushes him away gently, making sure he sees the smile. 

“You should go meet up with him.” 

“You’re sure?  You are awfully hard.”  Brian croons, his hand cupping Draco's groin. 

“I am a young man, Brian.  I can guarantee you I'll be hard again.”  Brian stares at Draco intently, making sure this is really the choice he is making.  Then snickers gently before he moves away. 

“Suppose I can’t convince you to come along?” 

“After that sparkling endorsement you gave?  Hardly.  But here,”  Draco says.  “I’ll give you my…telephone number.”  The words sound strange.  And it takes him a minute to remember the series of seven digits that he writes down on a piece of paper.  His script is elegant, used to parchment and quills instead of ball points and printer paper.  Brian looks curiously at it, before folding it carefully, placing it near his computer.  Small deliberate actions to ensure he does not lose it. 

Draco gathers up his coat and scarf and moves towards the door.  “I’ll see you, yeah?”   

“Yeah.  You’ll see me.”  Brian joins you in the doorway.  “And Draco, you’re not...just some kid.”  He offers quietly.

Draco's chest floods with happiness and with hope.  Then he smirks, playfully.  “I know.  I’m also the best fuck you’ve had in ages.” 

Brian is all too amused by the bravura of him statement and the smile that breaks over his face is a sight to behold.  With that image burning brightly in his mind, Draco slides the door closed behind him.   


	3. Chapter 3

“Thanks for closing with me tonight, Draco.”  Kelsey says as she begins to wipe down the espresso machine.  Disinfecting every knob and spout in sight.  
  
“Course.”  Draco is more accustomed to opening the café with Kelsey.  More used to the darkness surrounding his work being the murkiness of dawn instead of the inkiness of night but people with more of a life than him had needed to switch their shifts, so he had.  
  
“It’s not so different anyway – all the same steps, just backwards.”  Draco's voice sounds heavy and haggard, much as he is.  
  
But Kelsey smiles.  A cute, little grin similar to the ones she has been giving him all week.  One that seems to say she has figured something out about him and he suddenly makes a whole lot more sense.  
  
“So…”  She starts and from where he is sweeping under a table, he tenses.  When a girl starts a sentence in such a way, with such mock innocence, it is never a good thing.  “That guy who came to see you last week?  The one in the suit?”  She qualifies it with the descriptor, though no one else has come to see him.   Before or since.  
  
“Brian.”  He replies.     
  
“He’s…gorgeous.”  She gushes.  
  
“He is that.”  
  
“Is he, you know, your boyfriend?”  
  
Draco shoves one of the chairs back into place a little more forcefully than he meant to.  Pent up frustration he'd been trying to ignore finally getting the best of him.  
  
_Seven days._  
  
Seven days that brilliant smile he had left Brian with has had to sustain him.  No call.  No unplanned rendevous at the work.  No late night drinks at Woody’s.  No Brian.  
  
Nothing.  
  
He had known after sending him off to Michael, that this was a distinct possibility.  But foolishly perhaps, he had trusted Brian would call.  He had firmly believed he would see him again soon, that Draco really wan't just some kid.  And for the first few days, that trust had been enough.  Though the phone had remained obstinately silent, Draco's patience had remained earnestly steady.  
  
But now, it has reached the point where Draco has started questioning the whole thing.  Every kiss.  Every look.  Every weighted conversation.  
  
Had it all been in his head?  A delusional manifestation of his own loneliness?  Had he imagined the while thing?  The thing he feels when they are together that is completely inexplicable?  Was it something only Draco had felt and so given the choice between getting in touch with him and never seeing him again, Brian had chosen the latter?  
  
It is not that Draco feels scorned or rejected.  Not angry at him or sad or lonely, even.      
  
Draco feels more like a child who finally comes into their innate magic, only to be told they won’t get a wand until they are much older.  He feels like something has been taken from him before he could completely understand it.  Denied the ability to fully explore it.    
  
In the end, he simply wants more.  
  
Draco heads back behind the counter, turning off some lights as he does.    
  
“Brian doesn’t do boyfriends.”  Kelsey makes a sympathetic sound.  “But neither do I really.  Not  _boy_ friends exclusively, if you get my drift," Draco finishes.  
  
“Oh, right on,”  Kelsey says, understanding right away.   _Smart like Granger too._   “So he’s more the love ‘em and leave ‘em type then, huh?  
  
“So he claims.”     
  
Kelsey thinks for a minute and finishes the task in front of her.  “Where do men get off treating people like that?  You guys are such ass holes.  No offence.”  She adds quickly when Draco arches an eyebrow at her.    
  
“Although,"  She starts cautiously.  "From the way he looked at you the other day the interest certainly doesn’t seem one sided.  And with those sounds coming out of the bathroom…”  
  
Draco goes ghastly pale.  “Please tell me you didn’t…you couldn’t?”  
  
“He certainly seemed to be enjoying whatever was going on in there."  She snorts delicately.  "Well done."  
  
Draco covers his face with a hand, the ashen blanche on his cheeks suddenly reversed to a fiery blush.  "By the love of all things holy, just kill me now."  
  
Kelsey just laughs which does not help him to feel any less mortified.  She claps him on the back and he dares to look at her.  "You're alright, Draco.  I thought you were a total pompous ass, who walked around like his shit didn't stink when I first met you but...you're alright."  
  
Draco looks at her, regaining some of his normal composure.  "Well, I thought you were a corporate kiss-ass who couldn't reason herself out of a paper bag, so I guess we were both mistaken."  
  
She laughs again and the sound brings a smile to his face.  She thinks for a minute then turns to him and asks, "You want to get a drink?"    
  
At an hour near midnight, both several gin and tonics heaver, Kelsey drops him off at his apartment.  She sticks her hand out of her window to wave at him before pulling off.   _My Pittsburgh Pansy_  he thinks, amused by his own alliteration.    
  
He's had enough to drink that the whole world feels rounder and slightly less important.  So instead of fumbling with his keys, he checks over his shoulder to make sure he is alone.  With a delicate curl of his fingers and a breathless  _Alohamora_  his door springs open.  
  
He flops down on the couch, the new one he bought earlier in the week.  He kicks off his shoes and turns on the television.  
  
Brian Kinney or no, there is a life here for he if wants it. He simply has to be brave enough to reach out and grab it.  
  
His eyes glaze over and begin to feel heavy.  His breath slows to something patient and deep.  Sleep begins to creep over him.  
  
Then the shrill ring of his telephone fills his ears.  
  
His eyes snap open.  His heart trips over itself.  
  
_Finally._

_*_

He answers the phone with a curt, "Yes?"  
  
"Draco?"

 _Relief._  
  
"Brian."    
  
"Did I wake you?"  
  
"It's not even midnight."  
  
"I wasn't sure...you sound groggy."  
  
"That's just the gin talking."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"I went out tonight."  
  
"With whom?"  
  
"A friend."  He says, remaining obstinately vague.  
  
He goes on to say something about finding himself in Draco's neighborhood due to a late meeting with a potential client though Draco can only imagine what kind of meeting that might be.  

He hears the important things - like he'll be over in ten minutes - but he is still too distracted by the way his name sounds when Brian says it to hear much else.  There is a certain way his vocal chords drag over the D and the R.  The manner with which his lips form the O that leaves the sound spinning out into the air.    
  
Draco has heard those five letters snarled and growled and barked out so many times, in so many vicious ways, that to hear Brian say them is almost musical.     
  
Ten minutes and about thirty scourgifying spells later, Draco's spare wand is stowed away at the bottom of his sock drawer again.  The cigarette butts cleaned from the ashtrays.  A cleaning spell set on the sink to  clean all the dirty dishes.  Magical signatures be dammed, he is not going to let Brian see his place a mess.   

He doesn't have enough time to rinse off in the shower so he just puts on a clean shirt, instead.    
  
"Hey," He says only moments later, still slightly breathless from the effort, as he opens the door.    
  
Brian comes in wearing another stunning suit, though it looks slightly softer around the edges than the one from the week before.  Not as crisp after a long day at the office.  Or from being taken on and off several times already.    
  
He hands over an unopened bottle of Beam and Draco gets two newly cleaned glasses.  Draco opens the bottle and Brian pours.    
  
Brian offers up no excuse for why he didn't call sooner because in reality there is no excuse.  He doesn't need to have one and Draco realizes that he doesn't need to hear one because all that matters is that he is here now.  
  
Instead, the first words out of his mouth are fittingly sarcastic.   “So this is a nice place,”  He says.     
  
“Oh fuck you, Brian,” Draco says, laughing.  Cheap, stained carpet.  Grungy windows.  Thin walls and a leaky ceiling.  He's fallen far from porcelain tubs and gilded ballrooms.  
  
“Well, it ain't the Plaza,”  He says.  “But trust me, my first place was easily ten times worse.  The cockroaches were so big I could have kept them for pets.”  Draco makes a face and he gives you one back that says _Yeah, that bad_.  “But I loved that place cause it was mine.  I could walk around naked all the time.  Bring over whomever I wanted to fuck, whenever I wanted to fuck him.  No one there to criticize…” His voice trails off into the bottom of his glass.  
  
That is when Draco notices the tiredness, the weariness at the corners of his eyes.  Has work been that much of a bitch or did something more personally taxing happen this past week?  Draco realizes he may never know because there is also a defensiveness to the way holds his shoulders.  Tension and distance in his body that lets Draco know he doesn't want to talk about it.  Not here.  Not now.  Not with him.  
  
"Have you always lived alone?"  Draco asks instead.   
  
"I had a roommate for one semester."  Brian snickers, remembering.  "He moved out after he came home to find me in bed with his brother.  Needless to say, I don't play very well with others."  
  
One mention of him in bed with someone, laced with words of a mildly suggestive nature and it takes no time for Draco to go from zero to sixty.    
  
"Oh on the contrary, Brian. I happen to think you play very well with others."  Draco leans back to the corner of the couch and streches his legs out towards Brian.  His right leg ends up in Brian's lap and he works a hand under the hem of Draco's jeans to rest on the soft skin of his calf.    
  
Draco puts one arm behind his head and trails his other hand down his body, pausing to cup the growing swell in his denims.  He lets out a small sigh at the pressure and some of the tension dissipates from Brian's features.     
  
"Show it to me, Draco, "  He says softly.  
  
He is all too happy to oblige.  With a bite of his lip, Draco unzips his fly and lift his hips.  Brian pulls at the pant legs and makes sure the garment comes all the way off.  Draco adjusts himself into a comfortable position and Brian finds one with the best view.  
  
Draco starts slowly, making sure Brian can see him lengthen in his own hand.  Gentle strokes.  Patient touches.  Not to arouse or satisfy, but simply to enjoy.  To show and share.  
  
Brian's eyes are so heavy as they watch that Draco can almost feel the weight from them on his body.  Brian is enrapt by Draco's movements, content to sit back with his drink and enjoy the show.  Watching with the kind of focus one might watch an opera, moved and transported by something perilously beautiful.    
  
"I've done this before, you know,"  Draco says, his voice breathless.  "Right here in this very room.  I've sat on my couch and touched myself wishing it were you."  
  
Brian's eyes flutter, color creeping higher in his cheeks.   
  
"And when you thought of me what did I do?  Did I kiss you?"  Brian's voice is unbearably raw    
  
"Yes."  Draco hisses.  
  
"Did I finger your hole until you were ready for me?"  
  
"God,"  Draco rasps.  "Yes."  
  
He takes Draco's free hand, opening his palm and stroking his fingers.  Something cool and slick coats his first two digits and he opens his eyes to see Brian closing a small bottle of lube he must have brought with him.   _Always prepared._      
  
"Do it,"  He orders.     
  
A moments hesitation and then Draco is moaning pitifully as he slips the first, cold finger inside his body.  It is not often Draco does this when he's on his own, but the fullness is welcome feeling.   
  
"Christ,"  Brian says, as he watches, so enjoying Draco's wanton display.  "I could watch this all night."  Eventually Brian moves his body over Draco's body.  He hovers, but does not touch.  Does not get in the way of Draco's self pleasuring.    
  
"Do you have any idea how hot you are right now?"  He whispers, lips ghosting against Draco's.    
  
"Kiss me,"  Draco pants, but Brian just shakes his head slowly.  Draco begins to extract his fingers, so that he can pull Brian's hips down to meet his, but Brian holds his arm in place, his fingers almost too strong.  
  
"Don't you dare stop."    
  
Draco swallows thickly and nods.    
  
"Did I fuck you?  In your fantasy?"    
  
"Yes..."  
  
"Was it hard and fast?  Or slow and deliberate?"  Draco can feel Brian's breath in his mouth.  
  
"Fast.  Hard."  Draco pants, worried he might implode if he doesn't come soon.    
  
"Did you scream?"  He asks lowering his head towards Draco's ear.  "Did you come, Draco?"    
  
The emphasis of the penultimate word and the use of the last are simply too much and Draco is rocketed over the edge.    
  
Draco's cock is not even done emptying its stores when Brian pounds into him hard.  No time to remove clothes.  Only just enough to unzip his fly and sheath himself in laytex.  
  
He fucks Draco hard, harder than he perhaps ever has.  All Draco can do is ball his fists into the fancy fabric of his shirt and hold on for the ride.     
  
Brian buries his head at the nape of Draco's neck, his lips forming careless words.  Ones Draco know he will regret or deny as soon as the passion ends.  
  
"I've thought of you...with someone else this week.  Imagined it was your ass...your mouth...you..."  The words stop with a choked expletive.    
  
Draco knots his hands in Brian's hair and yanks his head down, bringing their lips forcefully together.    
  
And while tasting the moan on the other's tongue, they both come.  Violently and blissfully together.  
  
Brian collapses on top of Draco, disregarding the cum that covers his skin and will undoubtedly seep into his clothes.  For a few moments they simply enjoy the closeness as their lungs refill and cocks deflate.  

Brian pulls out and rolls onto his side.  There is not much room on the couch.  Only enough for him to cradle Draco's head in his arms, their bodies still pressed together, their legs still tangled.  He props himself up on one arm so they are face to face.    
  
All that is left is calmness.  No more tension.  No more sadness.  No more grimace of sexual labor.  Simply a moldering ember.  The hush of the snowy dawn.  If nothing else, Draco was able to give him that much.  
  
Brian pushes Draco's hair back away from his face with a heavy hand.  The locks are damp near his scalp.    
  
"It's getting long,"  He says, still slightly breathless, as his fingers linger near the ends.  "Looks good."  
  
Draco's eyes fall closed.   _Remember this._     
  
"I should go,"  He says softly.  
  
"Stay."  Draco hopes it sounds more like an order than a plea, though Draco can't help but beg with his eyes.  
  
"I have work in the morning and this suit is a mess...."  
  
"We'll get up early...you'll have time in the morning.  Just...stay."  
  
He looks down at Draco, rolls his lips together as he considers the possibilities.  Then drops his head to Draco's chest and sighs.


	4. Chapter 4

Eventually, they find Draco's bed.

They sleep, side-by-side, between thin sheets.  
  
Draco wakes up with Brian's hand wrapped around his morning wood, stroking him to a leisurely orgasm followed by two cups of strong black tea.  Draco's house, Draco's choice of caffeine.  Brian sips it cautiously but wakes up none the less.    
  
He leaves shortly there after, but not without the offer of further plans.  "I'll be at Woody's tonight around 9.  Got plans to go to Babylon after that."  
  
"The gay club?"  
  
"You ever been?"  Draco shakes his head.  "You're not a Pittsburgh fag unless you have."  
  
"I'm not gay,"  Draco says, blowing some of the steam off his second cup casually.  Brian wraps his fingers around the back of Draco's neck and bringing their foreheads together.  
  
"You just keep telling yourself that."  
  
Kelsey notices the spring in Draco's step and demands details which he doesn't give, because a gentleman never tells.  
  
Draco skips Woody's as well the shave he needs, opting to make his grand entrance at Babylon, fashionably late and with a bit of designer stubble to match.  He doesn't feel bad going straight to the club.  After all, Brian made him sweat it out enough the last week and it's well within his rights to return the favor.  If only a little bit.  
  
There is nothing in the magical world that even begins to compare to Babylon on a Saturday night.   
   
Deafening music.  Pulsating lights.  Swarms of men in leather, spandex, latex or hardly anything at all.  The air is thick.  Laden with sweat and a medley of cologne.  You stand on the upper most landing, taking it all in.  It is alive and electric.  A living entity in its own right.  It is all vanity and diversion and he completely understands why Brian needs a place like this.  
  
Draco heads to the bar, assuming it is a good place to start his search for Brian. And he most certainly needs a drink.  After placing his order, he sees a familiar face across the way.

Emmett.  He sees Draco shortly there after and with all the full force of his Southern charm, exclaims his greeting and waves Draco over.  As he make his way through the crowd, Draco notices both Ted and Michael standing with him.    
  
"Hey there, sweet thing,"  Emmett says and presses a kiss to Draco's cheek.  He has always been amazed by people like him, those with the ability to be unceasingly kind.  Ted smiles and lifts his glass in Draco direction.  Michael leans against the bar but stares deliberately out onto the dance floor, ignoring Draco with every ounce of his worth.  
  
"First time here?"  Ted asks.  
  
"How can you tell?"  Draco asks smiling.    
  
"You look like a deer in headlights.  Which is perfectly understandable.  It can be pretty daunting."  Draco does not understand the simile, as he can't see how he looks anything like a deer with torches strapped to its antlers.  
  
"But pretty soon you'll realize it's just like any other gay dancing establishment on a Saturday night.  Same crowded dance floor, catchy tunes, over priced drinks and sweaty back room."  Emmett finishes for him.  
  
"It's actually my first time at any gay club,"  Draco confesses.  
  
"Did you just come out?"  Ted asks.  
  
Draco opens his mouth to explain, for the second time today, that he's not gay.  He's not bisexual.  Granted he's not really straight either.  Simply that these kind of labels are not necessary in the society he grew up in.  He is open to any and everything that feels good, within reason of course.   There are laws and good common sense.  Even Draco's father had drawn the line somewhere.  Though he is pretty sure he once over heard a conversation between his father and Severus that involved the words "merfolk" and "never again".  
  
But Ted and Emmett wouldn't understand.  And perhaps it is easier to just accept their labels.  So Draco looks down at his drink and says, "Yeah."  
  
They both smile.  Michael hears too - his eyes flick over to Draco for one fraction of a second - but he does not react.  
  
"Good for you, baby,"  Emmett says, putting a hand on his shoulder, welcoming him into the fold.     
  
Just then Draco feels a body come stand directly behind him.  So close he can feel the heat radiate off the man's skin.  Draco is about to kindly ask this stranger to back the fuck off when Draco looks down to see the man's hand resting next to his on the bar, a shell bracelet encircling his wrist.    
  
He turns.  Brian's hair is dark from sweat and freshly mussed, a thin sheen of sweat coats his skin.      
  
"I was beginning to think you weren't going to show."  Brian says, a leisurely drawl to his words.  
  
"Worried?"  
  
"Ass hole."  He merely smirks.  "You need another drink."  He says pointing to Draco's half empty glass.  "Drink?  Drink?"  He asks first Emmett, then Ted and finally, throws his arm around Michael's neck and drags him towards the end of the bar to order.   
  
His movements are too fast.  His eyes dangerously wild.    
   
"What is he on?"  Draco asks Emmett.  
  
"Every letter of the alphabet,"  He says sadly.  "He's hitting it especially hard this weekend."  
  
"Why?"  Draco asks, brow furrowing.  
  
Ted and Emmett exchange a look.  "Do you want us to die a slow painful death for telling you something he doesn't want you to know?"    
  
"Let's just say, Brian needs confirming who he is this weekend."  Ted gives him a vague answer and then Emmett pulls him off to the dance floor, with a shake of his hips.  
  
Draco stands there, watching as Brian and Michael down another shot together a few feet away.  Michael is basking in Brian's attention but to Draco the bodily abuse is too painfully obvious.  It is clearly a way to make the physical numb through any and all chemicals all the while muting the emotional, even if only for a short time.  Whatever had caused the weariness Draco had seen in Brian's eyes the night before, it is clearly now causing this reckless behavior tonight.      
  
Brian's carefully controlled exterior is about to break.  And so is he.  
  
Draco makes a bee-line for Brian, pressing himself against his back when he gets there.  "Care to dance?"  Brian leans back against him with a crooked grin and Draco flattens his palm against Brian's stomach.  
  
"Do you see what fine manners he has, Mikey?"  He says with a silly laugh as he starts to pull Draco towards the dance floor.  Michael looks on with all the hatred he is capable of. 

Draco can't halp but regret that it has come to this.  That he has to steal Brian out from under Michael's long burning affections.  But there are certain things Draco can give Brian tonight that Michael can't.  He hopes someday Michael will realize that.    
  
They are a striking pair at the center of the dancefloor.    
  
Brian pulls out a small bottle of some powder and lifts it to his nose, snorting sharply.  The darks of his eyes widen while his lips form a painless smile.  He offers some to Draco.  "It'll make you fly."    
  
"I can fly well enough on my own."

Brian simply shrugs, unaware of Draco's true meaning, and pockets the bottle.    
  
They dance close.  Brian's hand on  Draco's hip.   Draco's hand at the small of Brian's back.  Brian lifts his hands to Draco's face, running his thumbs across his stubbled skin.  Draco smiles and drops his head forward so it can rest on Brian's.    
  
They kiss once and that is all it takes.  
  
"Come on."    
  
Once again Brian leads him through the labyrinth of sweaty, dancing bodies, heading towards the back and an ominously dark doorway.  
  
Even Draco knows what goes on in those shadowy corners.  
  
He is half petrified and half relieved to be here.   _Brian needs this.  He needs me to need this._     
  
While Draco is sure the Gryffindors all assumed the Slytherin dorm was a twenty-four hour orgy, Draco's sex life, such as it has been, has always been intensely private.  The beauty of silencing charms and privacy spells and seemingly endless corridors and bedrooms at the Manor.    
  
The whole purpose of this place is the exact opposite.  The sounds that hit Draco's ears are not sensual but vulgar.  The wandering eyes that catch him and Brian are not admiring but lewd.  The hands that reach out are not curious but demanding.    
  
Yet somehow, coming here with Brian, feels incredibly important.  Another step along the way of him letting Draco into his world.  
  
"You've never done this before have you?"  Brian asks as he positions Draco against a pillar towards the center of the room.  Draco shakes his  head, trying to focus in on Brian.  But he instead urges Draco, with his eyes, to look around.  

"Look at them, Draco.  Do you see them looking at us?"  He plants wet kisses along Draco's collar bone  
  
Brian undoes Draco's belt, pushing apart the fly of his pants.  When his palm encircles him, it feels just as satisfying as when he had touched him the same way that morning, but now, when Draco moans softly, the room around him does too.    
  
Brian jerks him gently in the blue light. 

"Do you have any idea how much they wish they were you?  Or me?"  He adds the last against Draco's ear, a hidden admission.  "They all want you.  Want to kiss you or suck you off."  
  
"To fuck me?"  Draco's voice has reached the breathless stage.  
  
"God, that.  Especially that.  They all want to be the one to do it." He pants back.     
  
"I want you to do it."  
  
"Here?  In front of all of them?"  
  
"Yes, Brian.  Show them who I came here for."    
  
Their eyes meet for the briefest of seconds and amidst the drugs and the lust and the underlying pain that clouds his eyes, Draco sees something he has not seen before.  There is not time to put a name to it, but whatever it is, it shoots a bolt of lighting right through his veins.  
  
Brian spins Draco around, pulling Draco's pants just over his hips, prepares himself and presses in slowly.  
  
And it is not long before the edges of the world begins to blur.  Draco's existence is reduced to the small sphere of life around him and it boils down to these few things:  Brian's fingers entwined with his.  Brian's moans floating past his ear.  The pressure of Brian's cock filling him.  And the sharp shock of pain of Brian's teeth on his shoulder when he comes.

*

Draco can feel the memories of the night before imprinted on his body when he wakes the next morning.

  
He aches, deep inside, in between his ass cheeks.  There is a small moon-shaped bruise near his collar bone.  His lips feel swollen and dry.  
  
They are all wounds he wears with pride.  
  
The night before had been Brian at his most pure.  His most uninhibited.  His body and mind so altered by the alcohol and chemicals in his blood stream that he seemed to be acting on instinct alone.  And those natural intuitions drawn him to Draco.  
  
Pulling Draco against him in the elevator.  Pushing him back against his sheets.  Opening Draco up, first with his fingers, then with his tongue, then with his cock.  Only to reach out to in the middle of the night, half asleep and still incredibly high, to do it all over again.  
  
Brian had been insatiable but Draco had been more than happy to let him try to quench his thirst.  He cannot remember the number of times he came but by the sheer number of condom packages on the floor surrounding Brian's bed and the limpness in his limbs, he is sure it was many.  
  
Brian still sleeps, the midday sunlight not about to rouse him anytime soon.  His body and mind are still basking in the pain free blankness of sleep.  Draco wishes he had a hangover potion that he could slip into Brian's coffee or at least his wand to cast a subtle re-hydrating charm to take the edge of that wicked headache he'll have.  Anything to provide him a little relief.  But Brian will just have to suffer like any normal Muggle and reap no benefit from being a wizards lover.  
  
_Is that what I am?  His lover?_  Draco wonders, brushing his thumb over Brian's parted lips.  His warm breath passes evenly between them.  Draco has heard the lecture.  No romance.  No boyfriends.  He gets it.  He respect the rules by which Brian lives his life and in many ways they make sense to him.   _Since when did I want anything more than just sex with a man anyway?_   Draco asks himself. 

Then with a heavy sigh he answers his own question,  _When I met him.  
_  
Draco makes some coffee.  Takes a shower.  He hangs up his towel and slips into those gray pajama pants he has started to think of as his.  The ones that whenever he comes over are always mysteriously laid out next to Brian's bed.  Freshly laundered.

He putters around the loft, sipping his coffee slowly.  He peruses a men's health magazine.  Goes through Brian's CD collection and feels remarkably at ease in this space.  Brian's flat is exactly the kind of place Draco would want to have back home in England if money were not a problem.  And of course, if Draco were back in England, money wouldn't be a problem.  
  
Eventually Draco wanders over to Brian's desk, stacks of work papers littering the surface.  The piles of bills and mail seem more organized.  On the top of one of the piles is a small, black and white picture.  
  
At first is simply looks like some amorphous blob in the middle of a black background, with some words at the top.  "Peterson, Lindsay.  Susquehanna Medical Center.  3/2/00."  
  
Then he remembers Brian mentioning the name Lindsay and he puts two and two together.  He shakes his head.   _Damn these Muggles have figured out how to do everything._  
  
The short note on the back confirms his suspicions:  
                     _Brian, Thought you might want to see the first picture of your son or daughter.  We won't be able to tell the gender  
                     for a few months yet.  Melanie and I are so grateful that you were willing to help make this dream of ours a reality.   
                                                                                                                                             Much love, Linds_  
  
So there is Draco's answer.  All this errant behavior over the past week suddenly makes a lot more sense:  Brian had just found out he was going to be a father.  
  
Draco smiles lightly, imagining the look that must have been on Brian's face when this Lindsay woman had told him.  He had probably just shrugged and said something appropriately snarky like, "Don't expect me to start talking to your stomach."  Then promptly gone on to drink, tweak and fuck every last fear and insecurity out of his system.   _At least I hope it is out.  I don't know how much more my ass can take._  
  
The knock at the door surprises him.  And person behind it surprises him even more.  
  
"Hello, Michael."  Draco says calmly.  
  
"You're still here?"  
  
Draco smiles smugly.  "Still here."  He moves out of the door way to let Michael in.  
  
"Where is Brian?"  
  
"Indisposed."  
  
"And by that you mean he's hung over?"  
  
"Extremely."  Draco smiles, but Michael's expression does not change.  
  
"I just wanted to make sure he got home alight."  Draco notes Michael's omission.  
  
"We got home just fine."  Draco includes it.  
  
He wonders if he should ask Michael how the movie was a few weeks ago, offer some token of peace.  At least try to mend things for Brian's sake, but Michael beats him to it.  
  
"You know, just because he keeps letting you come back doesn't mean you should start thinking that you're something special."  
  
Draco's breath catches at the terrible acidity in his voice.   _Muggle bastard, don't you remember how ready he was to drop you for me?_  
  
"I wouldn't dare have such an audacious thought."  
  
"You'll never be his boyfriend."  
  
"Yes, I've gotten the lecture from him, thank you."  Draco says sharply.    
  
Why had he even bothered to defend him the other night when Michael clearly had nothing but vitriol and spite for him?  All thought of niceness, making amends quickly dissipates and Draco's hackles rise.   Who knew all those hallway sparring sessions with Potter would come in so handy?  
  
"It's how he's always been.  How he'll always be."    
  
"Well, my, my, my...Don't we have a high opinion of our best friend?  You think him completely incapable of changing?  Of growth and progress?"  
  
"Don't you think I've tried?"  Michael says, his voice doubling in volume.  
  
"Perhaps you're not the one who is meant to change him."  Draco says and he knows his calmness infuriates him.  "Perhaps I don't think he needs to be changed."  
  
"Oh, that's fucking rich, coming from you.  How long have you known him?  A month?"  
  
"I've known him long enough to know that I would never dare speak for him."  Draco steps closer ready to bring the anvil down on this bull shit.  "You have no idea how it is between us, Michael.  So why don't you shut that flapping mouth of yours before you say something you can't take back."    
  
"'How it is between you?'"  Michael repeats, exasperated.  "You are even more delusional than I thought if you think there is  _anything_  between you.  You are a trick.  A fuck!  And the sooner you realize that he doesn't want you here, the sooner you can get the hell out of his life and things can go back to normal."  
  
"Michael!"  Brian's voice rebounds off the loft's walls.    
  
Both Michael and Draco turn to see Brian standing on the bedroom landing.  His boxer briefs hang limply, exposing one bony hip.  His eyes are blood shot and his hair stands up in countless directions.  Regardless of his disheveled state, his presence is dominating.  And the anger on his face, frightening.    
  
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"  He yells.  
  
Michael freezes, a pale look of panic of his face.  "I was just trying to help."  
  
"Help?"  Brian grimaces.  "How is telling Draco to get out of my life helping?"  
  
"Because that is what you always do.  You get rid of people.  So I just thought..."      
  
"You thought wrong."  He interrupts.  "Did you ever stop to think for a minute that maybe I don't want to get rid of him?"  
  
Michael stares at him desperately.  Knowing he messed up.  Knowing there is nothing he can do to take it back or make it right.  The panic on his face is so hauntingly familiar that Draco almost feels sorry for him.  Almost.     
  
Brian grabs Michael's shoulder roughly, getting right in his face.  "Look, I've put up with a lot from you all these years, Mikey.  The puppy dog eyes, the neediness, the wistful glances.  All because you have always looked out for me.  You have been there.  But this?"  His voice becomes breathless as he gestures towards Draco.  "This matters."      
  
"Why?  Why when no one else ever has before?  Why with him?  Why not wi..."  
  
"I don't know why.  Yet."  He says softly.  His outward anger turned into a simmering rage.  "But you will not be the one who tells me I don't get to find out."    
  
There are tears in Michael's eyes. 

"Now, get the FUCK out."  Brian says, shoving the smaller man and heading back into the bedroom.  
  
With one last pleading look Michael is gone.  
  
The loft hums with silence.  Echoing words Draco never thought he'd hear from him.   _This matters._   He matters.    
  
After a few deeps breaths to calm himself, Draco creeps up into the bedroom.  Brian sits on the edge of his bed, cradling his head between his hands.   
  
"Brian..."  Draco says to break the silence.  His voice is hushed but seems booming amidst the tenuous quiet.  Brian lifts his head, eyes staring straight ahead.  
  
"I'm taking a shower."  
  
Draco waits for him, laying on the bed.  Staring up at the ceiling.  Giving Brian this moment alone.  Draco knows how much it must have taken to turn Michael away and in some ways Draco feels guilty that he even had to make that choice.  If it weren't for him, Brian and Mikey would still be best of friends, having exchanged no bitter feelings, no nasty words.  But Draco had not asked for Brian to defend him.  Quite the contrary, in fact.  He felt perfectly capable of taking care of himself against Michael.  

Ultimately, it had been Brian's choice.   _Draco_ had been his choice.  
  
Brian emerges from the bathroom, towel around his waist and fingers combing through his hair.  He still looks like he just saw a ghost.  Draco rolls onto his side and offers him his hand, inviting him to join Draco on the bed.  Brian considers it then gives him a resigned smile, dropping his towel to the floor and crawling across the bed towards Draco.  
  
The very presence of him overwhelms Draco.  The pungent, soapy smell of his hair.  The radiant heat off his body.  The lingering dampness of his skin. The feathery soft hairs on his leg and at his groin.    
  
Brian settles on his side, facing Draco, and it not hard to coerce him onto his stomach.  He is a docile version of himself.  Resigned.  He has gone from commanding to compliant, with no fight left with in him.    
  
Draco straddles his hips, flattening his hands over the wide expanse of Brian's back.  He lets his fingers sink into his shower soft skin.  Bending forward, he puts all his weight into his thumbs, kneading deep into Brian's muscles, separating the knots from the sinew.    

"Feel good?"  Draco whispers.  Brian groans his confirmation.  
  
As Draco's hands work over his body, he cannot help but be turned on.  Every inch of Brian is so pristine.  So broad and so strong.  With Draco's thumbs still rolling into Brian's flesh, he leans forward to lick a stray droplet of water from between his shoulder blades.  Then tastes the arch of cartilage at the back of his ear, sucking on the tender skin of the ear lobe.  
  
Draco makes his way lower with his hands, his tongue following in their wake.  He follows the rise and fall of every vertebrae.  The gentle swoop of his lower back.  He opens his mouth and laves the taunt flesh of his ass cheek, kissing the curve where his ass becomes his leg.  
  
And strangest of all, Brian lets him without word, direction or protest.  He accepts Draco so close to that forbidden part of his body.  After all the question of who is the top and who is the bottom of this pairing was never a question, but by the subtle gasps and gentle breaths Draco wonders...  
  
"Brian?"  He knows what Draco is asking.  
  
"Come on, Dra."  His eyes are smoldering, half-lidded against his pillow.  "I know you want to."  
  
That is an undeniable truth.  The idea of being inside Brian is amazing.    
  
"You're sure?"  Draco has to know for certain.  Brian nods then puts his head face-down in the cradle of his arms.  
  
It makes no sense.  Why now?  Why, after this altercation with Michael, would he want Draco to do this?  Wouldn't he need to show his dominance?  Do whatever it takes for him to feel like himself again?  
  
But that's when Draco realizes, that feeling like himself is last thing Brian wants.  The "Brian Kinney" image is too much of a burden at this moment.  Right now he wants - needs - to feel anything  _but_  like himself.  
  
Draco's heart breaks for him yet soars at the same time.  Stone cold sober he wants this from him.  Trusting Draco at his most vulnerable, most broken.    
  
Draco will not take advantage of this.  He will leave Brian with no regrets.  
  
Moving down the length of his body Draco settles on his forearms between his legs.  He uses his thumbs to lightly pry open the two orbs of his ass, exposing his puckered hole.  The skin around it is smooth, freshly shaved.  As if in the shower he had already been imagining this moment.    
  
Draco has never rimmed anyone before but he knows what feels good so he hopes he will not disappoint.  
  
The first flick of his tongue elicits a moan from both of them.  As he sweeps over the tight skin again, the full impact of what he is doing hits him, leaving him feeling light headed and giddy.  
  
The taste is clean but musty.  Undeniably male and undeniably him.  It takes several swirls around the outside edge before Draco inserts the very tip of his tongue inside.  Once he does, all he can taste is his heat, feeling the soft moans that rumble through Brian's body.  The thrum of his internal pulse.  
  
After a few more minutes, Draco slides one slick finger in along side his tongue.  Probing past the first ring of tightness and into the realm on his prostate.  He finds the swollen mound and Brian gasps.  A rush of validation floods Draco's body.  
  
A few more passes with his finger and few more delicious sounds from Brian and Draco cannot wait anymore.    
  
A condom and lube are retrieved and Draco lays on his back as he prepares himself.  Brian watches, a hint of determination in his eyes.  Draco gives Brian one last chance to change his mind but his cheeks are flushed, his eyes glossy.  He clearly wants it as much as Draco does.  
  
Draco tries not to tremble as he settles between Brian's legs but he does not succeed.  Much.  Slowly, Draco pushes his way inside.  Brian is so tight.  So unused to being the recipient of this kind of sex.  It is unbelievabe to know that regardless of the number of men he has fucked, Draco will always be among the select few who has fucked him.          
  
Brian squirms and cries out as he is penetrated.   Draco freezes, his cock half inside.  
  
"It's ok,"  Brian says. "It's ok."  He lifts his hips slightly and Draco sinks the rest of the way in.    
  
Draco can barely breath.  The feeling of being surrounded by Brian's tight heat is almost unbearable.  It takes a few seconds of deep concentration to not come right away.  Even then, it still feels so good just being inside him that Draco almost forgets to move.  Then Brian's hips arch up and he reacts instinctively, curling his hips towards him.  
  
Draco's hips undulate, driving his cock in and out.  His skin cools with that first layer of sweat.  He keeps his movements slow and steady, worried that any fast motion will spook Brian and the whole thing would be over.    
  
Soon the so-good feelings overwhelm the both of them, turning Draco's slow, patient pace into something more like a good, hard fuck.    
  
"I'm close,"  Draco gasps.  
  
"Me too,"  He replies and Draco can't quite believe he is about to fuck him to orgasm.  
  
Brian presses his face into the pillows, gentle keening noises coming more rapidly.  He feels Brian's body tremble around him.  Brian grabs the back of Draco's thigh with a slap, stilling Draco deep inside him.  And he comes like that, the fullness of Draco enough to explode the tension.  Draco follows immediately after.      
  
He presses kiss after kiss to any part of Brian he can reach.  His shoulder, his hand, his temple, his lips.  Feeling closer to him than Draco ever has, tingling in his post orgasmic high.    
  
"You didn't have to do that, you know,"  Draco whispers, threading his fingers through Brian's still shower wet hair.  
  
"What?  Let you fuck me?  Well, you were right,"  Brian smirks.  "You never leave them dissatisfied." 

Draco smiles softly at the complement and at his diversion tactics.  
  
"I meant, you didn't have to tell off Michael, say what you said."  
  
"Yeah,"  He sighs, settling his head deeper into his pillow, letting his drowsy eyes drift closed.  "Yeah, I did."


	5. Chapter 5

When Draco gets home from work later that week there is red light blinking on his telephone that has never been there before.  
  
He pushes the button and his apartment is suddenly filled with Brian's voice.    
  
_Hey, it's me.  Just calling to see if you're around tonight and wanted to come by.  9ish.  Let me know if that works...actually, just let me know if you can't make it.  Hope you're... doing alright._  
  
It's been two days since Draco has seen him and it feels ridiculously good to hear his voice again. The last time had been Tuesday night when Draco had actually been the one to call to see if Brian wanted to meet him at Woody's for a drink.  Brian, of course was already there.  Looking slightly put out with Theodore at his side and Michael nowhere to be found.  But the smile on his face had been genuine when he saw Draco walk in the door.  And waking up in Brian's bed had been sublime.  
  
His thoughts have been consumed by Brian lately.  Remembering not only the white-hot feeling of being inside him but the way he had stood up to Michael.  Dare Draco go so far as to say, defended him and what he means to Brian.    
  
While the idea of being defended makes him feel like a first-year Hufflepuff girl, the sentiment Brian expressed was priceless.    
     
As the nine o'clock hour draws near, a strange feeling settles into Draco's stomach.  A twinge of unease that makes no sense to him.  Like if he ate too much Treacle Tart or suddenly found out there was an exam he forgot to study for.   
  
Sunday night had been intense.  For both of them.  The weight of his words -  _Yeah, I did_ \- The meaning registered in both their minds, turned a key and opened a lock.   But as soon as the after glow of the sex and insight had dissipated, they had spent the night much like they normally do.  Filling the time with witty banter, making small quips and jabs at each other that are all at once ruthless and affectionate.    

Nothing had really changed even with the heavy words.

Draco smiles at the memory, but the nerves don't go away.  As he sits in the cab, his palms begin to sweat.  His heart seems to work extra hard as he walks up to the top floor.  His sixth sense seems to know something is amiss and he curses those seekers in his blood line the second he opens the door.  
  
There, in all his glory is Brian balls deep inside a muscle bound brunette with a five o'clock shadow.  The trick is grunting loudly over the back of the couch, with a disgusting look of pleasure on his pinched face as Brian pounds into him.  
  
Draco is paralyzed by the sight, looking back and forth between Brian and the man he hammers into.  He turns his attention to Brian, to see Brian staring right back.   Brian is entirely too smug, his jaw relaxed in exaggerated pleasure.  His eyes express the joke.  Making it all too clear that the joke is on Draco  
  
Aside from the occasional snarl of his lips when the man he is fucking asks him to go faster, his face does not change and his eyes do not leave Draco.  He is clearly waiting for Draco to react.  
  
The only problem is, Draco does not know exactly how he should react.  He's know all along that Brian has continued to fuck other men and that fact alone does not bother him.  _I have my whispered confessions._    
  
This whole scene leaves him feeling... awkward.  Like he really shouldn't be seeing what he's seeing.  It was - the invitation, the message, the time -  clearly all set up just to try and get a rise out of him and that is what angers Draco the most.  That Brian would go through so much effort so prove a point that doesn't need proving.     
  
So instead of giving Brian his sought after reaction, expressing the hurt or anger or both that Draco is feeling, he leans back against the loft door, crosses his arms and enjoys the view.  
  
This aloof, unfazed reaction throws Brian and he falters for a moment, his hips suddenly out of sync with the tricks.  Draco's eyes widen, letting his mouth form into a concerned "Oh" just to make sure Brian knows he noticed.    
  
His dick remains thankfully soft.  In a different time, under different circumstances, there is no question watching this would turn Draco on.  How could it not?  Brian's latex-white cock slipping in and out of view.  His clearly-defined muscles, rippling and glistening with every thrust.  He is truly a specimen of masculinity.  
  
But the reason Draco is being given this show drains away any voyeuristic satisfaction he might receive.  In fact he finds himself watching the trick most of all, because he knows how it feels to be him.  To feel like, in that moment, you are the center of Brian Kinney's universe.  It is an earth shattering feeling and intensely addictive.    
  
When the trick comes, it is with a litany of platitudes.  Brian doesn't seem to notice and he stops without getting himself off.  His jaw is slack, his eyes still waiting for Draco to do something.  Say something.  Anything.  But Draco simply pushes himself up off the door, gives him a curt nod and slips out the door.  
  
Draco hails a cab and silently berates himself as it speeds through the empty city streets.    
  
He should have known it would only be a matter of time before Brian realized the true weight of what he had said.  Not to mention the fact that he might actually feel something for you, but had admitted to it it as well.  Admitted to something verging on what the rest of the world might define as "romantic affection".    
  
Draco should have known that eventually Brian would find a way to slam the iron gates, which Draco had slowly been inching open, back closed.  Needing to prove to himself, and to Draco, that he hasn't changed when you both know that is a lie.  
__  
If he weren't a Muggle from Pittsburgh he'd make a damn good Slytherin, Draco thinks.  A very well thought out and enacted trap.  Self-surving and cunning. _But pseudo-Slytherin sabotage, calls for true Slytherin revenge._  
  
It takes one call to Kelsey to have her at Draco's apartment and one crocodile tear to have her touching his cheek lightly, crooning at him sweetly.  And only one kiss to have her body soft and wet beneath him.  
  
It feels strange after all this time, to be with a woman.  There had been Pansy all those years ago and then some random Ravenclaw, during his seventh year, who thought she was being rebellious by sleeping with a Death Eater.  So his numbers are now even.  Three men; three women.  Though considering the quantity of sex with Brian, his catalogue of experience with men is vastly larger.  
  
These are the thoughts that go through his head while Draco is with her.  As she spreads her legs and moans for him, Draco thinks of Brian and how much better it feels pressed against his smooth chest than Kelsey's round décolletage.  
  
After the sex, Draco holds her because that is what women want and because she is his friend.  She spends the night, leaving her long hairs on his pillow.  
  
"I'm not going to freak out,"  She says over a bowl of cereal the next morning.  "I know it happened because you're upset about Brian."  Draco looks at her and the calmness of her words is reflected in her demeanor.  "It was...  _great_ , don't get me wrong.  But you two are good together.  He's the one you should be with."  
  
Draco blushes slightly.  "Thanks Kels.  I hope you're right."    
  
The door bell interrupts their tender moment and Draco smirks, ready for phase two of his plan.  
  
"Brian,"  He says with cloying sweetness, when he opens the door.  He smiles and pretends that Brian's suit clad body in his doorway is a surprise to him.  In truth though, he knew Brian wouldn't let Draco's non-reaction fly.  He knew it would get under Brian's skin and irritate him to no end.  Draco also knew he would want to confront him about it in person.  Brian's an in your face kind of guy and this is an in your face kind of moment.    
  
Brian looks at Draco, calm and relaxed in his pajamas seemingly not bothered at all by what had happened the night before.  Brian rolls his tongue in his mouth and his scowls deepens.  
  
"You want to come in?  Kelsey was just leaving."   
  
Brian's eyebrows shoot up on his forehead as Kelsey squeezes between the two of them in the door way.  Draco grabs her waist and pulls her into a deep kiss, keeping his eyes open and boring into Brian's, giving him a taste of his own medicine as he plunges his tongue deep into her mouth.    
  
Kelsey blushes slightly as the kiss breaks and wipes at her lips, looking furtively between the two of them before scooting along her way.  Draco goes back into his apartment to pick up a cigarette and lighter.  
  
Brian comes in, closing the door with a loud thud.  
  
"Touche,"  He says after a beat.    
  
"I told you I'm not gay,"  Draco says cooly.  
  
"And I told you I don't do boyfriends,"  He bites back.   
  
"Did I ever ask you to?"  Draco rounds on him.  His face scrunching up in annoyance.   Brian looks at him, stunned.  "Well, did I?"    
  
Brian looks down at his feet.   "No."    
  
"No!"  Draco gestures emphatically with his still unlit cigarette.  "I never asked for commitment or titles or...monogamy."  Draco says the word as if it disgusts him too.    
  
"I just thought after what I said... how it's been the past few days you would assume..."  
  
"You thought wrong,"  Draco says slowly, recycling his own words.  Draco settles his hips back against the kitchen table and finally puts his cigarette down.    
  
"Look, Brian, my parents never had a faithful day in their entire marriage.  But they have,  _had_  one of the most loving, supportive unions I'll ever see."  Draco stops, thrown by the verb tense.  He still is never sure how exactly to think of his father.  He continues.  "I have no doubt my mother would have died for my father and vice versa.  They were fervently committed to each other but not exclusive.  But it worked because they trusted each other.  They knew the truth. Their other lovers were never used as threats or collateral, because the  people outside the marriage weren't what mattered.   _They_  were what mattered.  _I_ was what mattered."  
  
"That's all very progressive of your parents, but what the hell are you getting at?"  
  
"That you can fuck whomever you want, whenever you want, Brian, I honestly don't care.  But don't throw it in my face as some sort of punishment because you  _feel_  something you're afraid of!"  
  
Brian eyes snap up, burning golden brown in the morning.  Draco's heart's leaps into his throat as he adds, "Because you feel something for me."    
  
Brian opens his mouth, trying to find some sort of denial but his words fail him.  Draco can see the resignation registers on Brian's face when he realizes there is no way he can deny this anymore.  Not to Draco, but more importantly, not to himself.     
  
Draco walks over to Brian and touching his jaw lightly.  He softens his voice.     
  
"We're both in uncharted water here, Brian.  I've never felt like this before.  About a man.  About...anyone.  And I'm going to hazard a guess that you never have either.  So, if you'll pardon the colloquialism, I'm just as freaked out by this as you are."  Draco brings his other hand up to cup Brian's face.   "So lets just go with what we know, which is that we're good together.  We understand each other.  We make each other laugh and the sex is phenomenal."  Brian laughs softly.  "All I need is the truth.  The rest, we'll figure out as we need to."    
  
He looks at Draco as his brain works overtime.  Eyes scanning back and forth between Draco's.  Truth he understands.  Truth he values.  Truth he gets.  And truth he is willing to give.  
  
"You're sure about this?"  He asks.  
  
"If you are."  Draco drops his arms to encircle Brian's neck and Brian's find Draco's waist.  
  
"'Sure' might be stretching it a bit.  But... if you'll accept 'willing to try' we might have a deal."      
  
"Mmm, I can see why you're such a consummate businessman,"  Draco teases as he brings his lips to connect with Brian's.     
  
When their tongues connect that enigmatic spark that has been present since the first time they met grabs hold of Draco again.  He presses himself against Brian and savors: the smell of cologne freshly applied, his hands curling into the ends of his hair.  He feels his blood start to head south, making his cock ache with heaviness as it starts to lengthen and harden.  Draco reaches for Brian's crotch, palming his growing cock.  But then Brian pulls Draco's hand away and breaks the kiss.  
   
"I gotta go,"  He says.  
  
"When do you ever turn sex down?"  Draco asks reaching again for Brian's fly, but his hand is once again halted of any further progress.  
  
"When I'm already late for work as it is,"  He explains.  Then he takes a step closer and his voice drops.  "And when I know I can have it over and over and over again tonight.  Take my time.  Blow your mind."    
  
Draco taps his finger against Brian's chest with his pointer finger.  "I'm going to hold you to that."     
  
"You better,"  Brian says.  He cups Draco's chin in one hand and kisses him again.  "I'll call you."    
  
It is only in the shower that the hypocrisy of what Draco has asked of Brian drains the brilliant smile from his face.    
  
Draco wants the truth.  Truth and trust.  He expect Brian to give him something he can never give in return.  Not fully.  Because the entire core of Draco's existence, the crux of who he is, where he came from, what he really is and the nature of his past can never, ever be revealed to him.  It would disgust Brian.  Frighten him.  Turn him away.  Because as much as Draco is starting to fit in, making a life for himself, he will never belong here.  Not completely  A foreigner in a land of natives.  A wizard in a land of muggles.  An entity that does not fit into Brian's realm of reality.  If Brian ever did find out, his rejection would be swift and everlasting.  How could it not be?  
  
Draco tries not to think about it, too much, as he gets ready for work.

*

 "You're late,"  Draco says, climbing into his Jeep later that night.

"Oh, I'm sorry,"  Brian drawls.  "Was I keeping you from something terribly important?" 

"Yeah."  Draco grabs Brian's hand off the steering wheel, pressing the heel of his hand firmly against Draco's cock.  “This.”  

A devilish glint forms in Brian's eye and he shakes his head slowly.  "Don't tempt me."

"Well, that was the hope."

Brian's tongue darts out to wet his lower lip.  His eyes stay on the road, but his mind is clearly on the feeling of Draco's twitching cock beneath his palm.  "Lean your seat back."  He orders.  "We don't have much time." 

They both smile mischievously as Draco undoes his pants, pulling his now rock hard cock out from between the fly of his pants.  Brian's fingers snake around him and he lets out a satisfied groan.  Brian's hand always feels so bloody good around his cock. 

He spends several seconds working the length, making sure he has full access to Draco in this less than luxurious setting. Though any time that Brian touches Draco, he feels pretty luxuriated upon. 

Draco opens his eyes and watches Brian's hand move in his lap.  His cock reflecting the eerie green colors of the dashboard lights.  His fingers forming a ring around the head, teasing the loose skin.  Pulling it over the swollen ridge. Every sweep sending a rush of pleasure from the tip, to his balls and through his entire body. 

Brian takes an unexpected turn, revving the engine as he does.  The growl of the motor mirrors the growl that comes from between Draco's lips.  Brian snickers and speeds along the road. 

"Where are we going?"  Draco pants. 

He looks at him.   "You're the only person I know who can carry on a completely non-sexual conversation while getting jerked off."  Draco sneaks a look at him.  His lower lip is caught between his teeth and he looks like he wants nothing more than to lean over and swallow Draco down.  

"Don't hate me because I can multitask,"  Draco says, punctuating the sentence with a choked breath.

They slow down at a stoplight and Brian leans closer to Draco, using the momentary halt in driving to concentrate further on pleasing him.  A car pulls up next to them and Draco is grateful for the height of the jeep, leaving his most private parts from view.  Though from the euphoric look on Draco's face and the voracious look on Brian’s, there could be little doubt what is going on.

 “Lights green,”  He points out.  

"How do you do it?"  Brian asks, but puts his foot on the gas. 

"Lots of training."  The ability to separate his thoughts from his body was an ability honed during the war.  _Though usually to save myself from a far less enjoyable purpose than this._   "I do remember a certain time when you were able to accomplish the same feat.  A conversation about college and grad school."   

"That is only because I was being ordered to do it by a rather bossy bottom." 

"Oh, so you like being bossed around then?"  Draco lifts his hips slightly to push himself further into Brian's touch.  He's getting close.    

"Will you shut up and come already?"  Brian demands.  It is all too easy for Draco to obey.  He comes, spurting over Brian's hand and the hem of his shirt.  They both laugh when they arrive at another well-timed red light. 

Brian begins searching for something in the driver's door pocket. With his attention drawn elsewhere and Draco's brain spinning high, he casts a banishing charm to clean himself up.   

It's not until Brian offers him some Kleenex that he realizes what he's done.  He'd never slipped like that before.  Never once just done magic in front of Brian.  It was too easy.   _Did he see it?_    _Did he feel it?_  

"I'm alright,"  Draco manages.  "I think most of it got on you."  Brian looks at him strangely, trying to figure out why he's looking so bashful all of a sudden. 

"Yeah.  I guess you're right,"  He says as he begins wiping his hand, using his knees to control the steering wheel.

 _That can never happen again,_  he thinks looking outside to see the lights of Liberty Avenue around him.  

"Fancy a drink?"  He asks, hoping he sounds casual. 

"No," Brian says.  "There's been an...intervention." 

"By whom?" 

"Debbie Novotney." 

"Michael's mother?" 

"Her and her fucking tuna casserole."  He mumbles.  Then he plants a fake smile on his lips and looks at Draco.  "She wants to meet you." 

He stops the car in front of a small restaurant.  Like the rest of Liberty Ave, it is bedecked in rainbow flags and vibrant colors.  Several of the tables are full, but most remain empty.    On any other night, the place might be too loud for words, but it is slow tonight.  Giving it a warm, homey feel while at the same time still being over the top and flashy. 

Much the same could be said for Debbie herself. Her dyed red hair has several rhinestone-encrusted flowers nestled in the curls. Her tee shirt, under a pin-laden, multi-colored vest, sports a picture of a sleeper couch with the words "I pull out" underneath.  She snaps gum loudly in her mouth but speaks to each one of her customers with love and familiarity. 

She sees Brian come in and her hands immediately go to her hips.    

"This him?"  She asks, her voice blunt with years of dealing with prima donnas.  Brian nods and leaves Draco to defend himself, picking up a newspaper and going to sit in an empty booth.   

"So."  She says, leaning forward on the counter.  "You are the infamous Draco Malfoy." Draco's still a little flustered from the incident in the car and he could seriously use some back up. 

"And you, the famous Debbie Novotney,"  Draco smiles sweetly.  He looks over his shoulder to see that Brian's watching the exchange intently over his newspaper.  He looks nervous too.

Draco realizes how important this must be to him, though he’d never admit it.  This is probably the closest Draco will ever get to meeting Brian's mother, and probably more important than if it were his actual mom.  So he puts on a smile and whips out his best behavior. 

"’Bout time I finally got to meet you.  Michael’s mentioned you." 

"I'm sure he has,"  Draco says softly. 

"But the strange thing is, Brian's mentioned you too.  Do you have any idea how unusual that is for him?” She reconsiders.  "Fuck unusual.  Unheard of?" 

"From what I hear Brian has been acting against his normal modus operandi." 

"His what?" 

"His normal way of doing things."  Draco clarifies.   

"Well, you got that right.  But whatever the hell you've done to get him to do it, you just keep on doing it."  She leans in even closer, one dangerously purple nail pointed in Draco's direction.  "Cause in all my years of knowing him, from puberty to college and beyond, I’ve never seen him happier."  

Her words take Draco by surprise.  Draco has felt a change.  He feels it in the way he always searches out for Draco's hand when they sit next to each other.  The way he looks at Draco when he sees him for the first time after a few days.  The way he listens and remembers everything Draco has ever told him.  

But the fact that his friends -  _his family_  - have noticed and sees the change as positive too, is just further proof to what Draco had established that morning:  They are good together. 

Except for one thing.   

"Even after his huge fall out with Michael? You still want me to stick around?"  

"Yeah, that is a bit of a mess, isn't it?"  Debbie says, looking over his shoulder at Brian. 

"I hope you know I never intended for it to happen.  I did not mean to come between them."

"I know you didn't, sweetie."  She says, reaching across the counter to pat his cheek.  "And don't you worry one minute more about it.  There is nothing that will keep those two apart forever.  Not even some pretty, blond thing like you.  Sure they'll stew about it for a week or two, but after a while, they'll drift back, everything forgiven and it will the Brian and Mikey show as usual." 

"I hope you're right."  Draco says earnestly. 

She stands back to appraise you.  "Well, you're cute as all get out and with that accent to boot.  Good manners. Genuinely kind.   You're young, but you've got a good head between your shoulders.  I can see why Brian likes you so much.  Good lord, I never thought I’d live to see the day that those words would come out of my mouth."  She directs her eyes towards heaven and crosses herself quickly.  Her eyes return to Draco and she smiles warmly.  In a way that tells him, he's just become part of her ragtag family too.  "I gotta get to my tables before they start a search party.  See you around, sweetheart."  

After she is gone, Brian comes to stand next to Draco.  Both watching as she tells a group of young club boys that they need to eat.  That they can’t fuck all night on an empty stomach.  He wraps both arms around Draco's waist without another word and pulls him out of the diner before they can be further detained.

Draco expects some rush of hastily removed clothes and careless kisses as soon as they walk in the door.  But instead Brian heads straight for the bathroom, cranking the shower as hot as it will go.  The room fills will steam, coating all the hard surfaces with a thin layer of moisture. 

The pounding heat of the water feels almost as good as Brian's hands on his body.  Brian stands behind him, his soap slick fingers working over every inch of his ivory skin.  His deliberate cleaning is more relaxing than arousing.  More intimate than overtly sexual.  It is only as he slides his hands over Draco's chest, not stopping until he lathers the honey blond curls above Draco's cock that his libido reacts.   

Draco moans, the small noise echoing with the falling water in the enclosed space.  Brian moves closer, pressing his body flush against Draco's.  His own cock stirs against Draco's ass.  His hands move lower.  

One hand moves languidly over Draco's steadily hardening length, the other slips between his ass cheeks, the soap slicking his way.  One fingers presses against his hole.  Only enough to activate the sensation.  For Draco to wish for more but not enough to penetrate.  Draco feels Brian smile against his neck as he protests his teasing. 

When Brian deems him sufficiently clean, he presses Draco under the shower’s spray.  

“Rinse.”  He says.  Draco hears the rip of a condom wrapper and he hurries to make sure all the soap is gone.  Once it is, Brian spins him around.  He presses Draco against the glass and slowly works him open.  Not using his fingers, but his cock to relax the muscles.  It takes immense control for him not to thrust in before Draco is ready and Draco can almost feel him tremble.  After several breathless moments, they both exhale soundly as Brian pushes himself all the way in. 

With Brian inside him, against him, all around him, he forgets his lies of omission.  His inadvertent slips.  His sordid past and unsure future.  He simply forgets and lets himself feel. 

Him.  Brian  His breath.  His cock.  These untested emotions that flow between them. His lips on Draco's jaw and his words against Draco's ear. “You are amazing.” 

He allows himself to believe the story he has created for himself.  The poor little rich boy from England.  Making his way in the New World.  Wanting nothing more than a fresh start from his painful past.  Finding friendship and belonging in unexpected places.  Slightly daunted as he falls in love with a miraculous man.  

And as he feels yet another mind-numbing orgasm speed through his veins, he pleads to the spirits of Merlin and Morgana.  Head bent against the cool tiles in reverent prayer.  Hopeless tears choking back his climactic cries.  He begs and implores for them to take anything,  _everything_  – his family name, his wealth, even his magic itself – if only they would make that story truth.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Draco gets to Woody's on a random Thursday night a few weeks later, Ted and Emmett are already there.  His continued presence does not surprise them anymore.  Showing up at Babylon.  Joining them for drinks.  Arriving, with Brian, for breakfast at the diner.  They treat Draco like one of their own.  Part of their merry band.  As Emmett waves him over and Ted pulls out a chair, he is alarmed by how important their acceptance has become.  It feels so very important to belong.  
  
_But it is all based on a lie.  Deception of my own making.  If they only knew..._  
  
Draco has become accustomed to these thoughts as of late.  And equally used to quashing them as soon as they appear.  As time has passed, however, the guilt has grown.  He is not selling this distorted truth solely to Brian anymore, but to everyone who has come to mean something to him.  Which, some how, each and every one of them has.      
  
All the twisting of the truth, side stepping and re-coloring of his past is a heavy burden.  Capable of at one moment making him intensely depressed while at others, burning him up with disquiet and rage.   At some times he simply wants to scream the truth from the roof tops.  Declare it to the world.   _I am not like you!_    While on other nights, his body naked and soft next to Brian's, he can taste a more piteous confession on his tongue.  Wishing he could whisper it against Brian's neck and remove the the facade once and for all.    
  
But he does not.  Instead he keeps those emotions tightly bound.  Wrapped around him like a suffocating second skin, making them so intensely personal, that he hopes no one else notices.  He is, after all, a Malfoy.  Trained and bred by his father to look at his emotions with a businesslike coolness.  To control them with practicality and with poise. But it seems that when it comes to Brian, all bets are off.  
  
Speaking of the brunet Adonis, he walks into the bar a few minutes after Draco does.  Michael jostling through the door behind him.  It had been a week prior that Michael had appeared at Babylon, looking sheepish and out of place.  Emmett had pulled Draco out onto the dance floor, leaving the two friends some space to knit their relationship back together.  As it turned out, it only took a few minutes to put something back together that they had spent a lifetime building.    
  
"Evening boys,"  Brian says as he saunters up to the table, clearly in a good mood.  He grabs the seat next to Draco, helping himself to the pitcher of beer on the table.  Once he and Michael are settled, and conversation bubbles up around them, he leans in for their own private greeting.      
  
"Hey,"  He says.  
  
"Hey,"  Draco returns, smiling lightly.  Draco reaches under the table and places his hand on Brian's knee, unafraid that this action will be rebuffed.  There was a time where Brian might have reacted with a tensing of his jaw, an awkward adjustment in his chair.  But tonight he simply leans back and throws his arm over the back of Draco's chair.    
  
"So what is the plan this weekend?  The usual?  Drinks.  Dancing at Babylon,"  Emmett asks.  
  
"Not this weekend,"  Brian says.      
  
"Well, why ever not?"  Emmett asks with all the genteelness of a southern gentleman.     
  
"I'm going to New York."      
  
"What for?"  Michael asks.  
  
"Business meeting."     
  
"A new account?"  Brian shakes his head as he reaches into his pocket for his cigarettes.  "Then what?"  Michael continues.  
  
"One of the ad execs from one of the bigger firms in the City is opening his own agency.  He knows a friend of mine from grad school.  Got my name from him."  He shrugs.  "Wants me to come in for an interview."  
  
"That's fantastic, Brian!"  Emmett squeals.  Under the table Draco rubs his knee in encouragement, though this is news to him too.    
  
"God, I love New York,"  Ted says, a wistful look floating over his eyes.  "The museums.  The theatre..."    
  
"...the clubs.  The men."  Brian interjects, then snorts.  "Leave it to Theodore to be the only fag who doesn't put those two things as the city's number one tourist attraction."  
  
Ted and Emmett start babbling on about their various trips to New York City over the years and eventually the duo, plus Michael make their way over to a pool table near by, leaving Brian and Draco alone.    
  
"You could come you know,"  He says.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"To New York.  Tomorrow."   
  
Draco looks at him.  Somewhat shocked by his offer.  "Really?"  
  
"They're getting me this ridiculously large suite at the W Hotel right in Time's Square.  Everything is paid for and I know you've never been so..."  
  
"I..."  
  
_Would love to.  Feel the buzz of he crowded streets.  Get the hell out of Pittsburgh for a while.  Spend time alone with him.  It would be amazing.  But being in New York would mean being close to their wizarding district.  The Siren's song pulling me there would be so strong there is no way I could resist it.  I would have to go and I..._  
  
"...can't."  Draco says finally.  "I have to work."   
  
"Well, just thought I'd offer."  He gets up and goes to join Michael.  
  
Though he'd never admit it, and hopes Draco didn't notice, Brian is upset.  It was pretty out of character offer an invitation to go away together, and for Draco to turn him down....for coffee.  
  
But the real problem, of course, isn't his work schedule.  It is the temptation to go to the wizarding district.  Draco worries that if he felt the tingle on his skin that that much magic in one place creates or allowed himself one whiff of the pungent, earthy scents of a potions shop, he might never want to leave.    
  
But then Draco reconsiders.  Perhaps this is what he needs.  One last hurrah.  One final immersion in that world before he spends the rest of his days trying to deny it.  If he goes, soaks it all in, give himself closure, then perhaps he truly can let it all go.  Perhaps he can stop waiting for the day when he returns home, because that day might never arrive, and make Pittsburgh his future.    
  
Draco stands up quickly and touches Brian's hand lightly to get his attention.   
  
"When are you leaving?"

"I just got here."

"No, tomorrow.  For New York."  
  
"Five-ish.  Why?"  
  
"You'll pick me up then?"  
  
He looks at Draco, lifting one eyebrow skeptically.  "I thought you had to work."  
  
"Brian,"  Draco admonishes.  "It's not like I'm performing brain surgery.  I'm sure I can find someone to cover my shift."  Then he plasters a mischievous look on his face.  "I  _am_  fucking the boss after all."  
  
Brian laughs sardonically but Draco can tell he is happy.  He kisses him quickly, letting his finger tips graze the stubble on his chin.    
  
"I'll see you tomorrow.  I need to pack."  Brian salutes his departure with a lift of his glass.  
  
Draco goes straight home, but he does not pack.  
  
Instead he pulls a small box out from under his bed that he has had hidden away since he first arrived.  If this is to be his final farewell to magic, there are certain things he needs.  Inside the small box are the items from his life back in England he cherishes most.  Not small trinkets that remind him of home but crucial things that remind Draco of who he is.  
  
Draco opens it with all the reverence these items deserve.  
  
The first thing he sees is his wand.  Not the crap one he has been using on the rare occasion he does a spell where he actually needs a wand.  But _his_ wand.  The one destined to belong to him.  He can almost feel the magical core quiver as it connects with his skin, jumping to life once more, ready to do his bidding.  He lays it on his bed, planning on packing it for New York later.  
  
Next is the Malfoy signet ring.  A large moon stone nestled in two platinum snakes that make up the band.  He slips it on his right ring finger and it shrinks to fit.  He hasn't worn it since school.  _I guess I have gotten thin._  He flexes his fingers, adjusting to the unfamiliar weight and he can almost feel the history.  Not only is it a symbol of his place as heir in the Malfoy line, but it is also a portkey, ready to whip him back to Malfoy Manor in an emergency.  
  
Lastly, is a letter.  Sent to him on his seventeenth birthday.  From Severus.  
  
Of course, Draco hadn't referred to him by his first name at that point.  Then he was still Professor Snape.  There had only been a sliver of time between when he was given that right and when Severus had been taken away by the full brunt of Voldemort's malevolence.    
  
It is not an overly sentimental note.  But considering the sender, that is not surprising.  He had received it less than a month after Severus had stepped up and saved Draco from himself.  Killing an already dying man so that Draco's soul could remain clean.  If that did not indebt Draco to that man for the rest of his life, the frankness of his touch less than a year later had.    
  
It is not so much the content of letter that touches Draco and that isn't the reason he has kept it all this time.  Instead, it is that he had sent Draco a letter on his birthday at all.  With all the turmoil of Snape's life, answering to Dumbledore and Voldemort.  Living with the guilt of a murderous mistake.  Even so, he had reached out to Draco.  To a student and a protege.  A young man who he he had seen falling into the same traps as himself and wished to save.  
  
How would he feel now to know the duplicitous life Draco is living?  Where not even those closest to him know the truth?  Is that what Severus would want for him?  Expect from him?  Isn't this just what he tried to save Draco from?  From living a life just as he had with the fear that his true identity might be revealed and ruin all?    
  
Draco's eyes glaze over, lost in memories of dungeons and black, burdened eyes.  Sometimes it still hurts to think that he is gone.  But then his own eyes settle on a sweater Brian had left behind when he'd stayed with him last week.    
  
It takes him seconds to decide that he doesn't care what Severus would think.  He would want to Draco to live.  To thrive.  To be happy.  And even through the guilt and the grief, Draco is happy.  More so, perhaps, than he has ever been.  And if this double life keeps Draco in Brian's, then it is well worth it.

*

 

The lights of New York glitter in a midnight sky by the time her massive skyline appears on the horizon.  And like most tourists, new to the city, Draco's eyes widen.  Brian watches and appears happy that he gets to be the one to show Draco this place for the first time.

The hotel is sleek and modern and so incredibly them.  The two of them fit in nicely with the trendy clientele and the young man who checks them in doesn't bat an eye that two men are checking into a room with only one king sized bed.  And though he informs them that "Here at the W, we're here to get you whatever, whenever.  24/7." he seems ready to go above and beyond the call of duty for either of them.  Brian is unfazed by the flirtation and Draco is unfazed by the extravagance.

The suite is large and bold.  A low slung, sofa, upholstered in rich leather.  Glass and metal coffee tables, supporting orb shaped lights that emit a soft glow.  The wood work is dark, almost smokey in color.  But the space is punctuated by a flash of color here and there, saving it from being too somber.  

And even though it is nearly one a.m., Brian insists they go out.  It is the city that never sleeps after all and Brian is ready to prove that old adage true.

Instead of one of the massive clubs, they end up at a one of the smaller gay bars in Chelsea.  It seems there are nights when even Brian isn't in the mood for dance floors and back rooms.  The crowd is mellow, there more to drink than to copulate.  Though they both get cruised plenty.

Draco drinks the over priced cocktails Brian keeps buying for him, sucking them down with no thought for the cost, because as Brian claims, "It's all a tax write off."

Brian has a tendency to get rather tactile when he drinks and even more so when they are alone.  He sits so their knees touch, resting his hand on Draco's neck while he talks, dropping his forehead against Draco's as they both laugh.  These small little touches that show Draco how comfortable Brian has become with him.  

He starts playing with Draco's hand, curling the fingers back towards his palm and then peeling each finger back, like petals of a flower.  Brian has a silly, almost childlike look on his face, fascinated by the feel of Draco's skin and the flex of his bones.  Draco is more than happy to sit back and enjoy the touch, eyes half lidded, like a purring cat.  

Then he turns Draco's hand palm down and looks up.

"This is new."  

Draco knows he means the ring.

"No, in fact it is quite old."  Draco drawls as Brian pulls his hand closer to his face to examine the jewelry in the low light of the bar.  

"How old?"

"My grandfather's, grandfather's, grandfather."  Draco gesticulates with his other hand.  "Fuck if I know.  Just old."  

Brian snickers, then adds.  "More snakes."  He trails an idle finger down Draco's left forearm and Draco feels a flush rise in his cheeks.  

"That snake has a much more nefarious connotations and is an unfortunate coincidence," Draco says, indicating the Dark Mark with a nod of his head.  "The Malfoy's have used the snake for generations as a symbol of adaptability and rejuvenation.  Being able to find strength and power in any situation."  

The same innocent fascination falls over Brian's features again he listens.  "You're very proud of your family history aren't you?"

"I was."

"But now?"

"Now?"  Draco shrugs.  "Well, I've told you know about my father and his brilliant choices.  And then there is me."

"What about you?"

"I'm sure working part time at a coffee shop is not exactly the brilliant career my ancestors were hoping for.  Certainly not what I was hoping for."  Draco adds, quietly.

"What do you want to do?  Career wise."  Draco notes Brian's subtle tense change and a small part of him sings with gratitude.

The question, however, gives Draco pause. "Well...I suppose never  thought about it, really.  With all the was going on with my family, all that my father expected of me, there was really never time to think about what I would want otherwise."

_And fighting a war before my eighteenth birthday certainly didn't help._ It had been impossible to look past the end of the war.  All Draco could ever see was either a world where Voldemort reined or Draco were made a villain, neither being terribly exciting prospects.    

"It's rather pathetic, isn't it?  To be nearly twenty years old and have no degree.  No plan.  Not even an inkling of you want to do with yourself."  

Brian pulls back, giving Draco a look that warns him to not be so overly dramatic.  "Sometimes I forget you're only 19.  Shit, when I was your age..."  He trails off, just shaking his head.  "You have a lot of life to live.  A lot to learn."

"Oh, and what?"  Draco scoffs, pulling his hand out of Brian's.  "You think you're so much the wiser for your additional nine years?"  

"I didn't say that."  He looks at Draco levelly, his voice calm and soothing.  "But I do know that you came to this country with nothing.  And that for a long time you were in pretty fucking shit shape.  And that it would have been way too easy to continue on like that.  But you didn't.  And now, regardless of what you think of it, you have an honest job, a viable apartment, a group of friends... "  His eyes catch Draco's and he sees rather than hears him add  _a lover_.  "And I know that none of those things come easy.  Not to those who aren't strong.  Who aren't adaptable."  He pulls Draco up out of his chair and against him.  "Perhaps you're upholding those Malfoy family traits better than you realize."

He whispers the last words against Draco's ear and he feels like he could melt into him. 

For all that Draco keeps hidden, Brian still understands him.  Completely.  Seeming to always know exactly what to say to knock Draco out of his self pity.  To set Draco on an upwards course again.  Draco wonders how much more completely Brian could support him, even if he did know the whole truth.      

They wander out to the street and Brian hails a cab, but the euphoric feelings do not go away. 

Draco is still not accustomed to how strongly he feels about Brian, slightly anxious that the word "love" has even entered his thoughts in regards to him because it wasn't supposed to happen.  But somehow this man, who was meant to be nothing more than a fuck to fill the void, has come to mean more to Draco than anyone ever has.      

And from the long, thoughtful look Brian gives him, as his fingers thread through Draco's, Draco can't help but wonder if Brian is coming to terms with similarly unexpected feelings.  

Brian leans against him in the elevator, his head on Draco's shoulder, as he pushes the button for the 53rd floor, beginning the slow leisurely ascent to their room.  The elevator doors separate with a soft ping and Brian's eyes flutter open, as he pushes himself up off the wall.  Draco opens the door and Brian immediately begins to strip, dropping his coat and pulling off his shirt on his way to the bedroom.

It is hard to tell whether this is an invitation or just laziness spurred on by his half drunk, half exhausted state.  He collapses on the bed, limbs splayed in every direction, still wearing his jeans and boots.  The city lights spill in patches on his body.  

"Tired?"  Draco asks as he start to get undressed.  Brilliant hazel peaks out from beneath one lid and manages, even with one eye to give Draco a look that tells him how ridiculously obvious his question was. 

The eye resumes its closed position.  "Yeah."  He says with no small hint of understatement. 

"You've had a long day.  First work, then the drive."  Stripped down to his boxers, Draco settles next to him on the bed, draping one bare leg over the top of his.  "You should sleep."  

Brian opens his eyes to look at Draco.  A quick glance takes in Draco's near naked body.   In a heart beat, his eyes morph instantly from drowsy to dripping with latent desire.  With a surprising surge of energy he has Draco on his back, slipping his tongue into his mouth and his hand beneath the elastic of his underwear.

"I'm tired,"  He says.  "Not dead."

Draco's final article of clothing seems to slip off his hips of their own volition, though he knows that it is Brian's deft fingers that truly do the work.  A raspy sigh rattles his lungs as Brian's fingers find his cock, encircling the organ, still soft and warm against his abdomen.  A few strokes with his palm and Draco is hard and ready, awaiting whatever it is he plans to do.  Brian's lips curl into a calculating smile and he laughs, a small, almost conniving sound at the back of his throat, the second before he dips his head and engulfs Draco's cock in his mouth.

"Christ,"  Draco gasp as his body arches, head pressing back into the mountain of pillows on the bed.  He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes and the small pin pricks of light that appear behind his lids seem to match the prickling, tingling sensation in his groin.

"Feels amazing, Brian,"  He whispers and Brian groans around him.  His tongue makes its way slowly up the underside of Draco's cock, making delicious sucking noises when he reaches the tip.  His hand, already slick with his own spit, follows.  A small twist at the end sends tremors through his entire body.

Brian's hands disappear for a moment, but Draco hardly notices, too distracted by the way Brian's tongue is repeatedly pressing his slit.  He hears Brian's belt buckle and the slow zip of his pants.  The missing hand comes up to touch Draco again and he let out a long moan.

Opening his eyes, he lifts his head just enough so he can see Brian's beautiful brown locks falling over his face as he sucks him.  The muscles of his shoulders and arms tensing and flexing, his head bent over Draco's cock.  It is a beautiful sight to behold.

For as amazing as he is making him feel, something is missing.  There is just enough movement from his right hand to know that Brian is jerking himself off while he pleases Draco.  And in Draco's mind, the inequity of that is vast.

"Brian," He pants but Brian does not stop.  "Brian."  Once again, louder, with a hand to his shoulder.  He looks up at Draco, lips full and red, hand sustaining the contact with gentle pulls.  "Turn around..."  Draco doesn't quite know how to say it.  "I want to...at the same time."

Brian's brow furrows for a second, but then realization dawns on his face.

It is never a graceful position to assume, and it takes some finagling with Brian's pants, but a few moments later, their bodies are side by side, head to foot with Draco's cock back in the warm cavern of Brian's mouth and his cock buried deeply in Draco's . 

The noises they both make are pathetic, desperate mewls. Draco's thighs tremble as Brian touches him in places he never has before.  The skin by his ankle.  The hollow behind his knee.  Draco's hands wander too.  Everywhere and anywhere.  Their bodies joined in a continuous circle of giving and receiving. Taking and investing.

It takes nearly no time before Draco is coming.  In fact, he is almost ashamed by how quickly and easily he gets off.  But this was clearly more of a sprint than a marathon for both of them, because Brian's orgasm almost instantly follows.

"That,"  Draco hears from down by his knees after a few moments of panting and sighing, "Was a brilliant idea."  Draco laughs breathlessly, still feeling the tingle of his orgasm speed through his limbs.  Brian reorients himself the correct way on the bed and they in settle under the covers.  

Brian presses a kiss to his temple.  "Night," Draco whispers and they both slip off to sleep without another word.  Alone, together, in a city of millions.


	7. Chapter 7

Brian is up early the next day, already looking poised and confident in his dark pinstriped suit by the time Draco drags himself out of bed.  He stands in front of the full length mirror near the bathroom, adjusting the vibrant green tie at his neck and the silver cufflinks at his wrist.   _A delectably Slytherin color combination, Brian,_  Draco think as he approaches from behind.   
  
With a small smile, Draco bring his hands up, resting them softly on his shoulders.  The way the fabric falls over Brian's frame and the memory of the body underneath makes his knees weak.    
  
When he meets Draco's eyes in the reflection of the mirror, the smallest hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips but it does not disrupt the look of steely determination on his face.  His focus.  His drive.  The competitor's edge that makes him so bloody fantastic at what he does.    
  
He moves through the suite, putting his keys and phone in his pocket, grabbing his overcoat.  He rattles off the schedule of meetings and lunches and interviews and drinks that will take up the majority of the day.    
  
"I'll be back around 6.  We'll get dinner.  Go out."  
  
"Alright,"  Draco says, stretching the last of the sleep from his limbs.  
  
"You have any plans?"    
  
"As a matter of fact, I do.  As exciting as it might be to stay in here and look at the ceiling all day, it's not nearly as exciting when you're not on top of me."  Draco pouts slightly.      
  
 "Well, we'll have plenty of time for that later,"  Brian says, nodding seriously.   
  
"I'll look forward to it,"  Draco kisses him, letting his mouth linger.    
  
Brian's hand that doesn't hold his suitcase wraps around Draco's waist and pulls him close and it is only from so narrow a distance that Draco can see beneath his cocky shell.  Deep into Brian's most private places where those hints of uncertainty lie. The smallest flicker of nerves. Because even though he'll never admit it, Draco knows how important this it to him.  A chance to prove that he is at the top of his field.  The best of the best.  Too good for the Pitts after all.  Not just a big fish in a little pond, but  _the_  big fish in the biggest pond.    
  
Someone who does not know him as Draco does would never see it, but to him it is as visible as the garish neon signs outside.       
  
"They'll love you."   
  
Brian cocks his head.    
  
"Of course they will."  His retort is smug, flippant and exactly what he needs to nail the interview.     
       
And as soon as he leaves, Draco showers quickly before grabbing his wand and heading to the streets, his determination matching Brian's.    
  
He knows the entrance to the Wizarding district is somewhere in Greenwich Village having learned about the importance of this New York location during the American House Elf Revolution of the 1953.   _Who knew that what I learned in History of Magic would actually come in handy?_   So Draco hails a cab and asks the driver to take him to "the Village".    
  
What will happen when he gets there, he is not completely sure.  He hopes he will be able to feel the magic, some inherent sense that will take him in the right direction.  But most likely Draco knows he will simply wander the streets and hope that, just like at the Leaky Cauldron, there will be some sort of magical sign post to guide his way.  
  
After nearly an hour of walking up and down the long city blocks, his determination starts to waver.  There is a light, insistent drizzle falling from the sky and his feet are wet and aching.  But as he rounds a corner, he finally catches a break.  He sees a group of people huddled around the door of a used record shop.  And as he approaches the store, the neon sign flashing in the window changes from  _We buy and sell used records and CD's_  to  _We buy and sell used remembralls and sneakoscopes_.  
  
He rereads the sign several times.  Even circling the block to make sure that it changes again as he approaches.   _I'm here.  The largest Wizarding community outside Europe is only steps away._   But is he ready?  Ready to step into that world again and then turn his back on it forever?    
  
Draco can taste the adrenaline on his tongue as he opens the door.       
  
Inside there are rows and rows of old recordings and several shoppers peruse the stacks.  For a moment he thinks maybe he did misread the sign after all, as it appears nothing more than a music store.  But then the short man behind the counter looks up from his newspaper.  With one appraising look, he jerks his head towards the back of the store and returns to his reading.  
  
There is only one door at the back of the shop, so it must be the one he's looking for.  He pushes it open and finds himself in a rather small storage room with piles of old boxes and out dated steroes.    
  
Just then a man with several parcels under his arms comes busting into the small space with him.   He stares at Draco blankly, waiting for him to either get the hell out of the way or open the damned door.  Draco gesture helplessly and with a dramatic huff the man puts on a good show of dropping his packages.  Making sure Draco realizes how much of a pain this is to him.   He opens the lid of a broken record player, spins the turner once to the right and once to the left.    
  
"Fucking tourists,"  He mumbles as the back of the closet swings open and day light spills into the cramped space.  He picks his packages back up with an unnecessary amount of grunting and pushes past Draco, expletives still spewing from between his lips.    
  
But Draco doesn't care because as soon as he steps through the door the presence of magic washes over his skin, surging through his veins, filling his up like a glass of ice cold water on a summer day.  He feel the hair on the back of his neck tingle, a chill run through his body as his senses absorb all those things that have been missing from his life for too long.    
  
The hodge podge of odors spilling out into the street from a potions supply shop.  The crack of apparition and the sizzle of a completed spell in the air.  The ever subtle swish and flick of wands.   
  
Draco moves slowly through the busy streets.  People watching.  Trying to take it all in.  A small grin forming on his face as a mother floating a large parcel in front of her chides a crying child scurrying close behind.  "I've told you a hundred times.  We cannot get a kneazel, because your father is allergic.  So will you stop pestering me already?"  The child cries all the louder.  
  
While Wizarding culture in England is stuck in 1910, in regards to technology and dress, American Wizards seem to have kept right up with their Muggle counter parts.  A man and woman walk past Draco and she seems completely at ease in a well fitted pant suit, carrying her robes over her arm.  And the man she is with chatters away on a cell phone, of all things.  
  
There are the usual robes shops and a quidditch store.  There is an owl shop, that advertises "We now sell pigeons!  Great for those more low-profile witches and wizards!"    
  
But there are also stores you would never find in Diagon Alley.  A computer store, for example, that sells laptops.  They run normal muggle software, but can also connect to the floo network for less sooty fire calls.     
  
In the center of the square is a statue of three women.  Their bronze cast robes, swirling at their ankles along with real blue magical flames.  A strange mix of panic and bravery on their gilded faces.  The placard below reads:   _In memory to our unjustly persecuted foremothers and fathers.  Salem, Massachusetts.  1692.  Your legacy lives ever on._  
  
Draco ponders the statue for a moment.  Realizing that every nation has dark corners of their history and Draco wonders if there has already been a statue erected of Potter or Dumbledore.   _Or Snape._  
  
Across the square is a more traditional book shop, and Draco finds himself being drawn inside.    
  
The shop is not busy, but none of the workers seem terribly keen on helping him.   _Magical or Muggle, New York is still New York._  He approaches the man at the counter.  He is older with trendy, wire frame glasses and a rather pointy goatee.  
  
"You don't carry the  _Daily Prophet_ do you?"  The words seem strange to Draco now.  But stranger still is the ease of the man's answer.  
  
"Sure.  Evening edition just came in.  You want a copy?"  
  
"Please."  Draco hopes he doesn't sound too desperate.  
  
The man goes into the back of the store and brings out a copy, giving it to Draco across the counter.  He picks up the paper with great reverence.  The headline reads:   _Minister Weasley Voices Support for New Dragon Legislation:  Wizengamot to Vote within the Week_  
  
" _Weasley?_ Arthur Weasley is Minister for Magic?"  Draco gasps, appalled.     
  
"He's been minister for over a year."  Draco looks up, almost having forgotten that the man was still standing there, watching.  "Guess someones been out of the loop for a while.    
  
"Yes, I've been..."  Draco starts, distractedly.  
  
"Living with Muggles?"  The man finishes.  
  
"In Pittsburgh."  Draco continues his furious scanning through the pages of the paper for all that he has missed.  
  
"Pittsburgh?"  The man snorts.  "Not my first choice...but...You're not the first English fellow we've seen pass through here.  That same dazed, awestruck look in his eyes.  Like he'd forgotten this whole world even existed.  Not quite sure where he fits anymore."  Draco wonders who he was talking about.  Wonders if he might know him.  "That war of yours really fucked up your generation, huh?"  
  
"Seems a fair statement."  
  
He shakes his head, sighing.  "I know a lot of those Death Eaters did some pretty messed up shit.  And meant it.  Probably even liked it.  But ultimately it was Voldemort and his reign of terror that is to blame for prom..."  
  
"I think..." Draco interrupts quickly, bringing one fluttering hand up to cut him off.  Draco is in no mood to hear this man's political beliefs, as benevolent and liberal as they appear to be. "I'll just take the paper."  
  
"Two dollars, twenty-five cents."  The man puts out his palm.   _They even use Muggle money._  
  
He gives Draco his change and he quickly leaves the store, rushing now, desperate to find a private place to pour over every word of the  _Prophet._  
  
He finds a coffee shop and drops to one of the corner tables without ordering anything.  Putting up a Privacy Shield just to make sure no one bothers him. The spell comes easily.   
  
Draco reads every word.  Every advertisement.  Savors the image depicted in every picture. The Chudley Cannons are still at the bottom of the league but Fortescue's has opened a new shop in Hogsmeade.      
  
But it is not until he reaches the Society page that the threat of tears tightens his throat.     
  
_Narcissa Malfoy, along with co-hostess Miss Pansy Parkinson, will host her annual Spring Equinox Ball at Malfoy Manor.  Before the war, this party was always the rousing kick off to the spring social season.  And now, with people ready to put the war behind them, one can only hope that this Mrs. Malfoy will once again provide us with one of her tasteful and elegant soirees.  While the guest list has yet to be finalized, Mrs. Malfoy has of late been seen at several functions on the arm of Senior Francesco Palastrina of Milan and this writer would not be surprised for the Italian Count to be among her distinguished guests._      
  
A tear slips down his cheek.    
  
He can almost see her coy smile.  Her long neck and elegant hands.  His heart swells at the thought of Pansy planing the party with her.  The two women he has loved most in his live finding support and camaraderie with each other is overwhelmingly comforting.    
  
And just like that: it is enough.    
  
Draco has his peace.  His closure. This aspect of his life is now finished.  This part of who he is can be wrapped up in a box with a neat tidy bow.  Tucked away with other mementos of his past.  Not something to feel guilty when he denies anymore, because the time for him to be a Wizard has come to a close.  Draco feels certain and unencumbered.  As though he can face Brian, with no doubt in his heart and tell him "Yes.  My future is here.  At your side."  
  
There is an undeniable melancholy.  A wistfulness that he hopes, in some ways, will never fully leave him.  But as he hails yet another cab, he tucks the paper into the front pocket of his coat, a souvenir of this final day with magic.  And as the yellow car speeds up-town, towards Brian, it is hard to feel too much pain.

*

A week after returning from New York Draco sits at Brian's side as he makes his announcement.  
  
"They offered me the job in New York."  
  
There is a smattering of congratulations from the group of men at their table, some more hearty than others where Michael is concerned.  
  
"I turned it down."  
  
Jaws drop.  Shock is the general reaction, though not to Draco.  Brian had talked through his decision with him the night before.  The pro's the con's.  And just like any proper partner would, he had taken Draco's advice seriously, though in the end, Brian had still made the choice himself.   
  
"But why?"  Michael asks, finally over coming his stunned silence.  "You've always wanted to work in New York.  Get out of Pittsburgh..."  
  
"And I still do."  Brian says, as his hand seeks Draco's under the table.  "But that firm wasn't the place for me.  The guy turned out to be a total ass hole.  And an idiot.  They won't last a year and I don't want my name associated with them when they fail."  
  
"Besides the salary they were willing to offer wasn't enough considering how much talent Brian was bringing to the table. He can't let other firms in the city think he can be bought for cheap,"  Draco says and Brian looks at him from the corner of his eye.  Draco leans in and kisses him.    
  
As much as the group is used to Draco being  "with" Brian, Draco has decided they might never get used to seeing Brian treat him with tenderness.  
  
_If they only knew..._  
  
The days pass quickly and their nights linger.  Time is not measured by anniversaries but by the ever-expanding size of Lindsay's belly.  The warming of the sun in the Pittsburgh sky.  The slow but steady transference of Draco's things to Brian's place.  First a tooth brush.  Then a few extra pairs of boxers.  And before Draco knows it, he has a shelf in the bathroom and some clothes in his closet.  
  
March thaws into April and April blooms into May.  
  
Brian spends his 29th birthday getting stoned out of his mind with Michael before the duo heads to Babylon for a night of excess and debauchery.  Draco leaves them to it.  Letting Brian do whatever and whomever he wants, with no grief from him. Part of his present to Brian.  
  
He stumbles into Draco's apartment around 4 am, letting himself in with his key.  He presses himself against Draco's back; his body damp and flushed from the drugs and the dancing.  But he does not try to seduce him.  He never does on nights like this.  Not when he has spent hours touching and fucking other men.  He saves that for the morning.  Freshly showered and clear headed.  Every touch deliberate.  Almost penitent.  
  
Instead, in the first few hours of his 30th year, he mumbles things against Draco's neck.  Things he only says when he is drunk and thinks Draco is asleep.  "Never as good as you... Christ, Draco...do you have any idea?"   
  
He always falls asleep before he says anything too revealing, but even the hint of it is enough for Draco.  
  
He goes to the opera with Ted and talks law with Melanie.  He gets promoted to Assistant Manager at his job, but even so, he begins tossing around the idea of taking a course or two at the University of Pittsburgh in the fall with both Brian and Kelsey's full support.  His forged Muggle transcript might just be good enough to get him in.  
  
On a random Sunday afternoon in mid- May Brian takes him out to the country with the ever so brilliant idea of teaching Draco how to drive.  It is  beyond embarrassing when he cannot get the car to stop without inflicting whiplash and he stalls more times than he starts.  They both end up red faced in anger and frustration.  That is of course until they end up red faced, Draco's knees around his shoulders, getting fucked soundly in the back seat.  

After a few more weeks practice, with the infinitely more patience Ted, he takes the test and get a driver's license.  His first genuine Muggle document.  The true importance is lost to everyone but Draco, so he savors his own private pride.    
  
By the time Draco's birthday rolls around, it is Emmett who warns him.  
  
"Don't expect too much from him as far as birthday presents go.  He's not really much of a gifter."  
  
"All I got for him was a bottle of Scotch for his birthday."  
  
"Yeah, a $200 dollar bottle."  Emmett elaborates.  Draco shrugs it off, even though you'd saved for three weeks to buy it.  "Just don't be surprised if he doesn't even mention it."  
  
And he doesn't.  But the Calvin Klein suit he takes Draco to buy the day after seems a timely purchase.  
  
Life flows. And Draco basks in the joy of living.   
  
Only in his dreams is he reminded of home.  The nightmares.  Rare, but still haunting.  Often chased away by a soft word from Brian or a more forceful midnight fuck.  
  
He finds himself forgetting things easily.  Pansy's laugh.  The distinctive difference between the sound of a house-elf apparation and a wizard.  He ignores the urge to clean up a spill with a spell.  And he no longer feels like Brian doesn't know him.  Because he does know him.  He knows  _this_  Draco.  The Pittsburgh Draco.  Brian likes this man who sleeps in his bed on more nights in one week than his own.  And lo and behold, Draco likes this man too.    
  
His plan to put magic behind him works perfectly.  He is determined to keep up the plan as long as necessary.  Or until someone or something forces him to stop the charade.  And considering where he is living, Draco does not consider himself naive to think it possible that day may never come.  
  
Unfortunately, it does.  On a Thursday night near the peak of the summer.  
  
The temperature outside of Babylon is almost as steamy as the dance floor.  And Brian is looking especially delicious. Dressed in jeans and a dangerously thin tank top, exposing his sculpted arms, which are made all the more attractive by his golden brown tan.  Draco doesn't look too bad himself, having started wearing Brian's more expensive clothes when they go out.  His white blond hair is recently trimmed short.  Cut close to his head in a more seasonally appropriate style and Brian can't seem to keep his hands out of it.  
  
"What about him?"    
  
"He's too dark.  Probably really hairy."  Brian grimaces when he realizes Draco is right.   
  
For weeks now, Brian has been making subtle hints about a threesome.  And tonight, thanks to ample number of shots and the little white pill Brian gave him earlier, Draco is feeling sexy and uninhibited enough to give it a try.  
  
"Him?  He looks like he might work."  
  
Draco follows his eyes and sees the man Brian is talking about.  He is dressed in typical clubbing attire, but the clothes don't look trashy on him, just hot.  His light brown hair falls in soft curls around his face and he moves to the music as if it owns him.  Time seems to slow down around him.  The men in his vicinity stare as if they're looking at something unique. Draco has seen that look before.  
  
_It's how they look at me._  
  
"I'll go get him."  Brian says before Draco has a chance to dissuade him.  Whatever he says to seduce him works quickly and soon the two are coming back to where you stand at the bar.  
  
The other man’s eyes settle on Draco and mutual recognition flashes on his face.  The other man's jaw clenches, as Draco's stomach flips but they both remain silent.  
  
Back at the loft, Brian orchestrates the whole thing.  He speaks to the third man with a gentle directness.  Like that of a benevolent king.  One whose orders you always obey not because you fear him, but because he will take care of you if you do.  He tells the other man to strip down to nothing and to lie on the bed.  The trick has a good body.  Strong legs and flat abs. He cups his ample cock in one hand and begins to stroke himself.  
  
"You ready for this?"  Brian whispers in Draco's ear when he hesitates at the foot of the bed.  Brian undoes the fly of Draco's pants, cupping the bulge of his swelling cock through the cotton of his underwear.  "Feels like it."  Draco laughs softly, if not a bit nervously.  
  
_How the hell is this happening?  A wizard.  In Brian’s bed. How can he expect me to do this?_  
  
Brian looks at him seriously then, mistaking one form of concern for another.    
  
“I’m here. If it get to be too much,”  He says softly before getting onto the bed, placing his hand on the trick’s cock, taking over what the other man had started.  Brian's eyes beg Draco to join him and he is too weak to resist.  
  
Draco had not realized how much the presence of two more hands, one more pair of lips and one more cock would up the intensity.  But it means that Draco is never want for a piece of skin to caress.  His cock never ignored.  His lips never idle.  Brian’s bed is alive with limbs.  The sound of wet kisses and deep groans.  
  
It is easy to tell the difference between Brian’s hands and those of the stranger.  While Brian’s hands are soft and steady, touching Draco with familiar intent, the trick’s skin vibrates when it comes in contact with his.  He had forgotten how the hum of another man’s magic feels against him.  How it makes his skin tingle, while at the same time, warming him on the inside.  Shiver inducing, like a shot of tequila that burns on the way down.  It is not that the magical touch feels better because none can match Brian.  It is simply a reminder of something Draco had long since forgotten.  
  
Brian rolls onto his back, pulling the trick with him.  He pushes the man down between his thighs and with a lick of his lips, the other man laps Brian’s cock up into his mouth.

This is nothing like when Draco caught him with that other man on the couch.  Draco can see the beauty of the scene this time and it makes his cock ache.  This time, Draco can taste the crispness of Brian's tongue in his mouth.  Whimper as his fingers trail up and down Draco's torso, squeezing one nipple to hardness until finally he grasps Draco's cock and begins stroking him in earnest.  Draco can look deep into Brian's eyes, his gaze burning just for him even as another man pleases him.  It is abundantly clear that this man they brought home is nothing more than a means to an end.  A conduit for heightened pleasure.  This is still only about the two of them.  
  
"Fuck him, Dra."  Brian orders.  Who is he to deny such a breathless command?  
  
The trick lifts up onto his knees, making Draco's access to him easier.  Draco slide a few fingers inside to prepare him and his moan rumbles around Brian’s cock.   

“He’s good.”  Brian assures the other man.  “You’ll love it.”  

As Draco presses his prick inside him, the other man lifts his mouth away from Brian for one minute to exclaim how good Draco feels.  Brian throws his head back, eyes pressed closed, as if  remembering how it felt to be fucked by Draco.  

Brian's expression becomes even more euphoric as Draco begins fucking at a slow but steady pace.  He watches Draco and his eyes glaze over.  Looking more blissed-out than he has ever seen him.  Perhaps it is the drugs they are both on, or perhaps that guy is really that good of a cock sucker.  Or perhaps…  _A lust spell._ One that renders the recipient helpless to the touch of the caster.  Desperate and willing to do anything to please them, unable to think rationally on their own or say no.  It had been one of Carrow’s favorites.

Draco grab's the trick by the hair, ripping his mouth off of Brian’s cock.  Draco pounds into him with an especially violent thrust and he cries out.  Most certainly not in ecstasy.  As the sound echoes in the loft, Draco lower his head and rasps against his ear in the most vicious tone he can muster.

“You’ll stop that.  Right fucking now.”  

The young man swallows and nods almost imperceptibly.  Brian’s eyes immediately clear, oblivious to what had just transpired and moves the three of them to the next position.

When Draco finally comes it is with Brian behind him, moving slowly, gently in and out of his body, almost making love to him while his fingers wrap around the base of his cock and feed it to the trick. His mind is paralyzed by the pleasure in his body.  The exquisite pressure of being filled by Brian, his prostate being nudged again and again with every passing thrust paired with the debauched sucking of the trick’s mouth, his throat working against his dripping head.  
  
The trick’s needs are an afterthought to his and Brian’s.  He is a witness to a moment shared between the two of them, but nothing more.  He is forced to bring himself off by hand, but after the stunt he pulled with the Lust spell, he deserves no more than that.  

Brian comes with Draco.  Echoing his pathetic, wordless cries.  He hisses his completion against Draco's neck as his arms encircle his chest.  He pulls Draco's body close, his heart racing.  Brian's cock, still sunk deep inside Draco, pulsates to the same beat.  Draco is suddenly aware of how alive Brian is.  How he can feel that life within him.  A part of Brian, made a part of Draco.  He imagines a day when there is nothing between them.  No latex, no lies.  When Brian's orgasm would leave remembrances of that connection deep in Draco's body instead of a sheath of plastic.   
  
Brian somehow senses his wish and only pulls out once his cock is soft, the condom loose, on the verge of leaking.  Brian is always careful and this seems to Draco a rather reckless choice.  So perhaps Brian had been thinking much the same as Draco, how it would feel being raw inside Draco too.  

Brian falls asleep shortly thereafter.  Sated and drunk in his own bed.  Draco wants nothing more than to curl up next to him.  But when the weight of the bed adjusts and he hears foot steps on the hardwood floor he recognize his chance.

Grabbing a pair of clean boxers, Draco throws them on and goes down the stairs.  The trick is pulling on his pants, but he pauses and watches as Draco approaches.

“I thought I knew all the wizards in Pittsburgh.”  He says, as he lifts the pants over his hips and starts to button the fly. “Especially the gay ones.”

“I'm not..."  Draco shakes his head, deciding now is not the time for his 'I'm not gay' speech.  "I didn’t realize there were any of us here.”

“There aren’t, really.  A couple of dozen at the most.  I’m Perry, by the way.”

“Draco.”  They shake hands, though it seems strange to do after he's already come in Perry's mouth.  “Why are there any of us in Pittsburgh?  The lack of magic…it makes my skin crawl at times.”

He snorts softly in empathy.  “That is one draw back.  But I just got sick of the scene.  New York, San Fran, Salem…it's all a bit too intense for me.  So I came here.  It’s like moving to the country.  You get a little bit more peace and quiet.”

Draco nods.  Perry puts on his shoes and hunts around for his shirt.  “Sorry about the Lust Spell.  It’s a bad habit I’ve gotten into when I’m with Muggles.  It kind of just happens these days.”  

“Ah.”  Draco says, not certain that was a sufficient apology.

“I assume he doesn’t know,”  He says as he buttons his shirt up, looking at the bedroom.

“What gave it away?  The way I nearly ripped your head off when you cast the spell?”

“The condoms, actually.”  Draco blushes softly but Perry just smiles.  It relaxes his face, leaving it quite lovely actually.  “How long have you been together?”

Draco shrugs.  “Five months or there bouts.”

Perry's eyes narrow for a moment.  “Pretty remarkable, if you think about it.  A wizard and Muggle.  Especially for the likes of someone like you.”

Draco can feel something shift in the air.  He shivers.  “What do you mean ‘likes of me’?”

Perry laughs, a sadistic, mocking snort.  “Come on, Draco. Just because I live in some backwater, American city doesn’t mean I don’t know what that fucking thing on your arm is.”

Draco clenches his hands into fists and stands his ground.  “I never killed anyone.”  He says calmly.  Truthfully.  “I never tortured.”

“No, you just stood idly by while everyone around you did.”  
  
“I was cleared of any and all charges that could have been brought against me by the Wizengammot.”

“And you think that makes it ok?  You think you’ve been given a clean slate just because they said so?”  Draco resists clutching that traitorous arm to his chest as Perry beings to stalk towards him slowly.  “Or maybe you think you can redeem yourself through him?”  He gestures towards bedroom with a jerk of his head.  “Take a Muggle lover.  Live in his world.  What a fucking joke you are.”

He stands close to Draco now.  Close enough that Draco can smell Brian on him and see the hatred in his eyes.  But Draco does not back down.  Even while months of denial and years of self-hatred well up inside him and begin spilling out the corners of his eyes in stinging, merciless tears.  Perry almost seems pleased to see him react this way, a twisted grin pulling at his lips.  “No matter how much you fuck him, how much you  _love_  him, it will never take away the fact that at one time in your life you followed a lunatic who thought all people like him should be eliminated.”

Then he leans in close, ready for the deathblow.  “You make me sick.  And in my mind, you will forever be defined by that one choice you made.  Never more than a worthless piece of Death Eater filth.”

Draco teeters on the verge of loosing all semblance of control.  “Get.  Out."  He chokes through clenched teeth.

Perry snickers one last time, entirely too pleased with himself and the hopeless state he has reduced Draco to.  “I have to say though, you’ve got a great cock.  Which is good since that’s about all you’re good for now.  I’ll see you around.”  And with a crack, he apparates out of the loft.

Draco crumbles to the floor as soon as Perry is gone, trembling with tears and rage.  He stays there, curled up on the cold floor, until there is nothing left inside for him to cry out.  He feels empty.  Nothing left of him but numbness.   
  
As the dawn light begins to filter through the many windows of the loft, Draco creeps back into the bedroom.  His body weak and shivering.  He slips into bed next to Brian who mumbles and turns towards Draco, throwing an arm over his hips.  Draco's chest constricts and if he had anymore tears left to cry, he would.  But since he has none, he simply stares up at the ceiling and envies Brian the fact that he slept while his world fell apart. 


	8. Chapter 8

_Just fucking let it go, Draco.  That guy was crazy.  A lunatic.  Some whack job, fringe psycho whose beliefs are so far outside the norm that he had to leave New York.   Because the guy at the bookstore, back in New York clearly didn’t think the same thing about you.  So this Perry wanker is insane. It happened and it was painful and terrible, but it’s over, so just move on.  Just forget it like you have everything else.  You have suffered far more vicious verbal assaults from far more threatening wizards than the likes of him._  

_Then why can’t I forget it?  Why can’t I get the sound his voice out of my head?  Why can I still hear every single hateful word he threw at me?  Why can’t I let it go?_

_Because it’s true.  What he said…Merlin’s almighty staff, it’s true.  Nothing I ever do will change what I’ve already done. Fuck, I let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, I raised my wand against Dumbledore.  I listened to Granger scream from my bedroom and I did nothing._    _Nothing_.  

_But it shouldn’t matter.  That part of my life is over.  I’ve put it behind me and started fresh.  I’ve made myself into a man I respect and whom people care about.  I’m reborn like a phoenix from the ashes._

_Oh…what complete and utter drivel!  I have convinced myself of bullshit.  I have lied to Brian.  I have lied to Emmett and Ted and Lindsay and Debbie…But worse than all that, I have lied to myself.  I can’t change. Even if I deny my past, the Dark Mark will never go away.  It will always be in my flesh and my bones…casting a shadow on my soul.   I did stand idly by.  I am Dark.  I am tainted.  I am a weak and pathetic man for not finding this Draco in the first place.  But now it is too late and I will never be other than what I am.  What I was..._  

The snap of Brian’s fingers in front of his face yanks Draco out of his own head.

“Did you hear anything I just said?”  

Draco hadn’t.  Over the past day and a half, the only thing he has been able to focus on is the violent civil war he has been fighting with his own thoughts.  Ever since Perry shattered the impenetrable shield of delusion he had been living under for the past several months, Draco has been consumed with similar mental conversations to the one he'd just had.

Fighting between truth and denial.  Brian and loneliness.  Neither side promising an easy answer.  Over the past few days Draco has come to know two things:  One, he cannot continue to live the lie.  Not if he wants to salvage the remnants of his tender ego and stop deceiving himself.  And two, he cannot lose Brian, who represents the man Draco has become and all the hope he sees for his future.

Which puts him at an impasse, because he does not see a world where those two realities can exist together.   _Neither can live while the other survives._

Draco sighs, blinking repeatedly, trying to focus on Brian’s waiting face.  He smiles softly, shaking away the dire thoughts and hopes his expression looks more natural than it feels.  “I’m…sorry.  What were you saying?”  Draco gathers up some of the empty Thai containers and dirty plates from the coffee table and takes them into his kitchen.  

“I was saying,” Brian says as he grabs the rest and follows after him.  “That I got a call today from New York.  From Shulhoff and Teague.  They called to say that they had seen my campaign for Iron City Automotives and were very impressed.  They couldn’t believe, and I quote ‘how successfully I was able to make even used cars sexy’.”

Draco drops the plates into the sink and once again feel Brian's expectant eyes on him.  Brian is beaming.  Radiantly smug and deservedly so.  But Draco still feels weak, his limbs cold and heavy, even in the July heat and all he can manage is a half-hearted, “That’s great, Bri.”  

“It’s fucking fantastic is what it is.  They are brilliant.  And so innovative.  You should have seen what they did with the RestWell Hotel campaign.   They are easily the best firm in the city.  Shit, give them ten years and they’ll be the best in the country.”  The glasses he had in his hand clatter loudly in the sink and Draco flinches at the noise.  “Now are you going to tell me what the hell is wrong with you?”

Draco looks at him and swallows thickly, wishing he weren’t so damned transparent.  But then if Brian can read him half as well as he can read Brian, the way he has been feeling should be abundantly clear.  

“You’ve been like this since Friday,”  He speaks softly, in the tone of genuine concerned. “Was it the threesome?  The E?  I thought it was hot as hell, but if you’re weird with it we don’t have…”

“No…it’s not that.  The sex was great.  It's always great with you.   I can't remember the last time I came so hard.”  _It was the part that came after that has me all wrangled._ Draco crosses to the other side of the kitchen.  He turns his back to Brian, resting his palms on the counter top. He presses his shoulders back and down in an attempt to regain some control of his emotions.

“Then tell me.”  Brian moves in next to him, resting one hip on the counter.  He soothes his hand up Draco's back in a comforting manor, squeezing at the taunt muscles at curve of his neck when he gets there.  Draco almost pulls away from it, feeling undeserving of such a warm touch.  

“I told you I’m not a man of many words,”  Draco offers with a grim, worthless smile.

“You haven’t been since that first night.  And you weren’t really, not even then.”  Brian nudges him with his shoulder in an attempt to lighten the mood, but Draco keeps his stare steadily down.   

“I just… can’t talk about it.”

Because telling him, would mean telling him everything.  And Draco knows he's not ready for that.  

_I was supposed to be strong enough.  To be able to forget all that happened.  But if one man is able to push me into such a tailspin after less than 4 months, how am I supposed to live a lifetime of denial?_

_That is your answer, you fucking idiot!  You’re not supposed to spend a lifetime burying your past.  It was a careless, stupid idea in the first place.  A plan so foolish it could only be conceived by someone truly desperate._

_Yeah, someone like me._  

Brian waits silently, his arms crossed and his eyes wide in anticipation as the latest volley of mental battery flies across Draco's synapses.  But when again Draco says nothing, Brian pushes himself off the counter with a frustrated sigh.  “You’re being ridiculous,” he mumbles on his way out of the kitchen.

“I’m sorry.” Draco yells after him.  “It’s just that…it’s something very important and…”

"Then fucking tell me!”  Brian charges, arms braced on either side of the entryway, his expression now more annoyed than concerned.  

 _So it has come to this.  A choice._  

 _There is the one thing that makes telling him worth the risk.  And perhaps the only thing that will save us if I do._  
  
"Do you love me, Brian?:

Brian takes a step back in surprise, all frustration suddenly dissolved off his face.  He drops his arms to his side and and after several very still moments, where Brian's shocked eyes scan back and forth between Draco's, he whispers a breathless, “What?”

“Because  _I_  do.  Love you.  I love you, Brian.”  The words slip off his tongue easily, even though they sound more like a confession than a profession.  “I have for a long time now, and all this while I’ve been trying to come up with some other word for it because I know how vulgar you find it, but it would seem I’m at a loss.”  Draco stops.  Brian's eyes are averted towards the floor, his teeth catch his lower lip between them.  But at the same time he settles his feet on the floor, an invitation for Draco to continue.    
  
_He’s not running._  
  
_Yet._

Draco takes a deep breathy, trying to reign in his racing pulse before beginning.  “Because you see, I want only the best for you in life.  I want you to succeed.  To be happy.  To have every one of your dreams fulfilled.  I feel completely at ease when I’m with you.  I understand you and feel understood by you.  I trust you and even though I know your faults, I find you all the more compelling for them.  You make me happy in a way I didn’t know existed.  But I worry about you.  Afraid that something or someone will hurt you or let you down.  I feel this fierce need to protect you from those things.  Oh and god how I  _want_ you.  Every inch of you.  I  _need_  you, Brian.”  Draco's arms fall to his sides, slaping against the denim of his jeans in resignation.  “When you put all those things into one single word, what word other work does the English language provide us with but 'love'?”

With this first confession out, Draco feels strangely calm.  He's never said anything so sincere in his life.  Not to his mother.  Not to his father.  And from the blush that has crept into Brian’s cheeks, he knows Brian can sense the honesty.

"So what I need to know is, even if you’re unable or unwilling to ever use the same word as I do… I need to know if you feel the same  _things_  that I do?  Or if you can imagine a time in your life when you might?  Because if you do, Brian…”  Draco presses his eyes closed and bring his hands together in an almost prayer like pose.  “That is something I would very much like to know.”

“Jesus… Draco.”  Brian's eyes beg Draco not to make him answer.  But Draco simply waits, reopening his eyes, leaving them patient and soft.   

Brian throws his head back, covering his face with his hands, as he walks away.  Draco watches as he runs his fingers through his hear and settles in front of the window, overlooking the fire escape.  His head is in profile and the florescent streetlights cast him in shadow.  From the windowsill he picks up Draco's packet of cigarettes, shakes one out and lights it, taking a long first pull before seeming to forget all about it, suddenly caught up in his own mental war. 

After several painfully long minutes, he comes back into the kitchen.  Walking in the manor he does that is almost blunt in his self-assurance.  He cups both his hands around the back of Draco's neck and steadies himself. 

His mouth works, tasting his answer.  He opens his mouth once.  Twice.  Until finally, while his fingertips clench against Draco's neck, he breathes a whisper into the space between them. 

“Would I still be here if I didn’t?” 

Draco lets out little more than a timid sigh.  He clutches the front of Brian's shirt, his decision made.   

“Then there is something I have to tell you.” 

Brian steps back, but slides his hand down the length of Draco's arm, clasping one of Draco's hands in his. 

“There is something within me.”  Draco rests his hand near his sternum, as if trying to find the place where the magic lives within him.  “It flows through my veins.  Posses my body.” 

“Christ,”  Brian steps closer, hooking a finger under Draco's chin as if to examine him.  “Are you sick?"  There are heavy lines of worry on his brow but then his expression shifts to near horror.  "Are you positive?”  He asks, almost breathless.  

It may seem strange, but Draco throws his head back and laughs.  "Oh god…"  Draco says as he tries to compose himself.  He hadn't thought how explaining using those words would sound to Brian and the ridiculousness of what he is about to explain suddenly hits him.  "If only it were something so simple.”  Draco clears his throat.  “No, Brian I am not sick.  I don’t have HIV or cancer or even a bad case of VD.  In fact, I am completely insusceptible to all those diseases.” 

Brian cocks his head at Draco's final statement.  But before he can even formulate a rebuke or a question, Draco starts leading him into his bedroom.  
  
"Come, there is something I want you to read."

*

There has always been a strange disconnect between Brian and his bedroom to Draco.  Regardless of the nights spent here and how Brian claims, every time, that he doesn’t mind “slumming it”, the contrast of his high-end, designer clothes and Draco's shabby bed linens always seem at odds with each other.  

But nothing is stranger than seeing him sit on the corner of Draco's bed with a copy of the  _Daily Prophet_  between his hands.

Brian watches Draco with heavy, mistrustful eyes as he unfolds the paper.  Draco begs him silently to proceed. He looks down to where the entire front page is exposed, moving picture of Minister Weasley shaking hands with an upper-level Ministry official and all.  The image recycles itself and Brian’s eyes widen.  He flips the page over, looking at the back of the cover.  Patting the thin piece of paper in attempts to find the technology that allows it to move.

When it is clear there is nothing more than a sheet of newsprint there, he looks up.

“This is impossible.  How is it…And, dragons?  You can’t be serious?”  His face softens into a smile.  After all, a joke would be so much easier to understand.

“Just read it.”  

“But I don’t…” 

“Please.”  Draco insists, pressing a trembling hand to his forehead and softening his voice.  “Just read the paper.  I’ll explain everything to you later… I just don’t know any other way to do this.”

Brian recognizes the desperation in Draco's eyes, the pain in his voice.  He nods and begins reading in earnest.  

Draco paces across the small expanse of room at the foot of his bed, biting at his nails, tasting blood when he bites too hard.  Watching Brian’s face, as the lines on his forehead grow deeper and deeper in confusion.  

Brian steals a few looks up at Draco, small sounds of disbelief escaping his lips as he continues to read.  His expression rides a fine line between distress and simply thinking Draco has gone round the bend.

But finally something he reads makes curse sharply and Draco stop his pacing.  He holds the paper out at arms length, pointing at something with his free hand.   

“Narcissa Malfoy.  That’s….that’s your mother’s name.”  He stammers.  Draco does not think he has ever heard Brian sound so apprehensive.  

Draco nods.  “Yes.  And Pansy Parkinson is…”  
  
“The girl you lost your virginity to.”  

A small smile and another nod.  “Yes.”

“What the hell is this, Draco?”  He whispers.

“That’s a copy of the  _Daily Prophet._ It’s the largest publication in England which serves the magical community.”

He puts a hand out to stop Draco.  “So what you’re telling me is that this is real?  The news in this paper…it isn’t some joke?  You didn't just make it up?”

“No, it is quite real.  This newspaper and the world that is written about in it, it’s  _my_  world.  It’s a parallel but separate sphere of existance  kept hidden from this world, from Muggles – that's what we call you non-magical people.  We keep them separate to protect our way of life.  And yours. But that,” Draco points to the paper Brian still holds limply in his hand, “is the world I grew up in.  The one I left when I came here.” 

“That’s bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit, Brian.”    

“Then how the hell did you get it?  It’s dated April 3rd of this year?  You haven’t been home in over two years.”  His face is so channeled with lines of confusion that his face must be hurting by now.

“I got it the weekend we were in New York.  New York has a very large wizarding district too…”

“Oh, hold the fuck on!”  He stands suddenly, a cynical look on his face.  “Now you’re telling me New York City has its own fantasy world too?  Oh that’s just fucking fantastic.  Where do they hide it?  In the subways?”

“SoHo.” 

Brian stops his own pacing to look at Draco and simply laughs at the impossibility of it all.  A hopeless, desperate laugh.

“So what you’re saying is that while I was in my interview, you went to some special part of New York that is hidden from the rest of the world, got a fancy, magical newspaper with moving pictures in it and headlines about dragon’s, which also just so happens to have an article about your mother in it?”

“I know it sounds strange…”

“ _Strange_ , Draco, does not even begin to fucking cover it!”  He shouts, throwing the paper against the wall.  He takes wide steps away from the bed and Draco as if needing to create more space.  His gestures take on a frantic, frenetic edge as he speaks.  “Look I don’t know what kind of fool you take me for but a Ministry for Magic?  Advertisements for cauldrons?  Scores for some sport that I’ve never even heard of?  You really expect me to believe this!?”

“I’d hoped you might.”  Draco begins lamely.

“No!”  Brian cuts him off.  “It means that either you have gone completely insane or I have, because this is NOT possible.”

Draco had expected this sort of reaction from him.  He is after all an incredibly rational man and Draco is asking him to accept something that is completely irrational.  But nevertheless, tears of frustration begin to sting at the corners of his eyes.  

Draco lunges for where his wand sits on his dresser.  He had taken it out along with the newspaper when he first brought Brian in to the room because he suspected it would eventually come to this.   _  
_

_Time for some show and tell._   With a quick  _Accio_  Draco has the paper in his hands and Brian’s complete attention once more.

“What the fuck…”  He shouts, looking from where the paper once lay on the floor and where Draco now holds it.  Even though it was one of most benign spell Draco could have cast, Brian is horrified.  

“It’s called a summoning charm,”  Draco explains, calmly.  He speaks slowly, as if to a child.  Brian’s panic is enough for the both of them and he need not add to it by becoming hysterical himself.  “It’s one of the most basic spells that we learn very early on in school.  The first one we learn is a levitation charm.” One swish and flick later and the news paper hovers unsteadily in front of Draco.  He was always crap at levitation charms and he has to concentrate too hard on the spell to notice the drastic shift in Brian’s demeanor.  

“Stop!”  Brian yells, a overwrought edge in his voice.  “Just stop!”

The paper falls to the ground.    

Brian has gone pale, his eyes pained.  In his expression Draco is able to see so clearly what he is feeling, just as he always has.  Draco sees distrust.  Denial.  Draco sees that to Brian, he is no longer the man Brian has grown to care about all these months, but a stranger.  Draco is no longer the man he opened his heart to and allowed closer than any lover he has ever known.  Brian looks and sees nothing more than someone –  _something_  - he cannot understand.

“This can’t be happening.  It’s insane.  And I can’t… I won’t go along with whatever fucking fantasy you've concockted.  You need a fucking shrink and some fucking psych mends.”  He starts to push his way past you out of the room, but Draco grabs his arm, holding on tight so he can’t go.

“Brian, please.  I’m telling you the truth.  This is who I am.  I’m a wizard.”

“That’s not posisble!”  

“I swear to you.” Draco reaches out with out with his other hand to stroke his arm.  Touching his oh-so-familiar form trying to get him to look at Draco like he used to.  “It’s still me, Brian.  I'm just able to do these things that I didn't tell you about until now.  But I haven’t changed.  It’s still me.”       

Draco voice fades to a soft whisper and for the briefest second he feels the muscles under his fingers relax and for that briefest second Draco thinks maybe,  _just maybe_ , Brian can calm down enough to believe.  To take the time to understand.  To accept.   

But then his eyes begin to glow.   Not with confusion or bewilderment.  But repugnance.  Disgust.  A snarl forms on his lips and he rips his arm from Draco's grasp.  

“All this time..."  The words are bitten.  Spit out around bared teeth.  "You’re nothing more than a …”

He stops himself, trembling, and glares.

Something inside Draco twists.  Snaps.  

“I’m what, Brian?  Say it!"  His calm veneer shatters as his voice raises.  "Tell me what you  _really_  think of me!  Now that you know the whole truth about Draco  _fucking_ Malfoy lets have it.”  Draco open his arms wide to the side, willing him to take his best shot.  “You think I’m a freak? An aberration?  Some grotesque monstrosity?  Don’t you think I already fucking know that?  Don’t you think I feel that every day that I’m here with you?  I've been pretending to be like you when everyday I wake up and know that I'm not!” 

“No, you’re worse than all that!”  Brian cuts him off, his voice booming as he rounds on Draco.  His eyes still hold that hard glint of repugnance, but there is something new there too.  Something perhaps Draco had missed before.  Something that hurts even more than all the rest.  It looks frighteningly like disappointment. 

And in a much softer, but no less piercing voice, he declares, “You’re a liar, Draco.” 

“Don’t you think I know that too?"  Draco states.  Just as he had been, moments before, overcome by raging anger, he is as swiftly deflated of all ire and left with only shame and self-loathing.   His limbs go weak and he collapses back against the wall, sliding down until he hits the floor, his legs splayed out in front of him.  

"Draco Malfoy: liar.  Add it to the already long list of my life’s indiscretions.  But I’m done with the lies, Brian.  I’m done with keeping things from you.  I’m done with pretending to be something I’m not.  I’m just...I'm just done.” 

“But I don’t believe you,”  Brian says quickly.  The words, however, lack the finality of one who can never be convinced.  He sits down carefully, resuming the same position he had when this whole fiasco started, on the corner of Draco's bed.  “How _can_ I?”  He mumbles, as he drops his head to his hands. 

For several minutes the room is still.  The air still tense from their raised voices.   

In the quiet, Draco berates himself for thinking he could deny being a wizard.  For letting himself fall so hard for Brian.  For getting so close.  And for thinking that love would be enough to save them.  He blames Brian for being so amazing and for making Draco want someone so much.  Draco curses his parents for having given birth to him.  For being born with this gift of magic and the burden of the Malfoy name.  Draco curse Voldemort for starting the first war and Potter for living and causing the second.  Draco damns Pittsburgh and snowstorms and warm bars and fate.   

And all the while, Brian sits.  Lost in his own silent struggle with reality.    

Draco does not know how many minutes later it happens, but finally, Brian stands.  And Draco feels his throat tighten with a new wave of tears. 

_This is it.  Now is the moment he leaves._

But instead he stands in front of Draco and puts out his hand.  With a cautious look, Draco places his palm in Brian's and he pulls Draco up onto two feet so they are standing chest to chest. 

He takes a deep breath and begins.  “If all of this business with you being a wizard and there being this parallel magical world is true, I want you to prove it.”        
  
“But I have already,"  Draco says pathetically.  “The newspaper and the spells….”   

“That's not enough.   _Prove_  it, Draco.  Don't give me any choice.  Prove it.  Show me.” 

Draco's brain slowly begins to understand. __  
  
"You want me to..."  
  
"Do whatever it takes.  Whatever you have to do."  Brian nods gently, as if answering some voice in his head that asked if he was really sure.  He presses his lips together, his eyes closing.  Then almost like a prayer he says, "I want to believe you."

A tear trickles warmly down Draco's face, leaving in its wake the faintest glimmer of hope.  
  
Draco can think of only one thing that will prove his magical ability.  Only one thing that will confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt that his world is real.  Only one way that Brian could truly be convinced.  And that would be seeing it with his own eyes. 

Draco's thumb works around the heavy ring on his finger, instantly drawn to that bit of magic, righting it so the stone rests on the top of his hand.  Carefully, so as to not frighten Brian, he slips his arm around his waist, pulling Brian's body close.  He redoubles the grip on his wand.    

“Whatever you do, don't let go,”  Draco says gravely.  Brian swallows and nods, encircling his arms around Draco's waist, clenching his fingers in the fabric of his tee-shirt, obeying Draco's orders if not understanding why he is being asked to do them.  
  
And in that split second before Draco activates the portkey on his ring that will take them back to the Manor, the long forgotten sensation of being yanked by his navel overwhelming him, his thoughts are not consumed by the idea of finally returning home or seeing his mother or of the danger that he might be thrusting Brian into.  But instead, he can think of nothing but the perfect feeling of having Brian's arms so tightly wrapped about him.  And the relief that even after everything that has come out, Brian is still there.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the end of chapter for author's notes.

The world blurs.

At the sound of Draco's incantation, they are sucked into that nether region of magic.  The place where you are neither here nor there but somewhere amorphous and in between.  Draco had forgotten how turbulent and violent a portkey trip can be, especially a transcontinental one.  The longer the distance, the stronger the pull. The air pressure in Draco's ears builds to staggering proportions as the air flexes and bends around them, taking on an almost physical presence on his skin more like icy liquid than gas.  Draco presses his eyes closed as the swirl of existence around him makes his stomach turn.

But never once does he lose awareness of the body next to him.  Brian holds onto Draco for dear life, his arms quivering as he holds Draco so tight. Draco can only imagine the bewilderment he must be feeling.

Draco's ears pop.  The insistent whoosh of air around him begins to relax and Draco recognizes the gradual slowing that accompanies the end of a portkey trip. He knows they must be close.   

So he chances opening his eyes and in the distance, not more than half a kilometer off but feeling a lifetime away, Draco sees the various capes and turrets of the Malfoy Manor.  The stunning white limestone façade glowing against a predawn sky.  Soft exterior lights line the drive.  There is life inside this place, even if it now sleeps.  

 _I’m home_ , Draco thinks and unwittingly he pulls Brian even closer.

But then something happens that Draco had not anticipated but something he should have thought about if he had been thinking logically before he activated the portkey.  Which of course, he hadn’t been, driven instead by desperation.

The many wards and protective spells that guard his family’s estate from both wizards and Muggles alike kick in.  They recognize Draco, but not the man shamelessly attached to him and the force of the protective magic begins to tear them apart. 

The Manor’s magic, recognizing Draco as Lord and heir, welcomes him home. While at the same time, identifying Brian not only as a muggle but as a stranger, forces him in the other direction, ripping Draco from Brian’s arms.  Draco manages to grab onto his forearm before they are completely separated, digging his fingers into Brian's flesh as deep as they will go.  Brian clutches wordlessly at his arm with both his hands, mouth open in a silent scream.  

In this moment of terror, Draco finds himself wondering if this is how he had looked up at Potter when he was pulled from the Fienfyre.  Had his eyes been so wide that Potter had seen more white than color?  Had Draco looked at that bespectacled git with this much tumultuous fear?  And with the absolute faith that Potter would save him?  

Draco focuses his attention back to the present and to Brian.  Shouting to him, over the fiery crackle of the wards and residual woosh of the portkey, to hold on.  Draco doesn’t know if he hears the words, but Brian's grip does not falter.

Eventually the pull of Draco's inheritance is too much for the wards to resist and Draco and man he refuses to let go of are sucked inside the Manor’s protective walls dumped, unceremoniously on the front lawn. 

Draco lands with a loud oomph and hears Brian’s body land with a heavy thud a few meters away seconds later.

Without even stopping to make sure he is uninjured, Draco jumps up and runs in Brian's direction, casting a quick  _Lumos_  as he does.  In the soft, blue-white light of his wand, Draco sees Brian: on his back, legs splayed in dangerous angles, lying impossibly still. 

Draco's chest goes ice cold and he swears his heart stops beating.   

“No,” He rasps, falling to his knees next to him.  “No this is not happening.  Brian?  Brian…please, no…”  Draco gathers him up in his arms, limp and heavy.  He is still warm but desperately pale.  Draco only stops his overwrought litany of denials and pleas, when he feels his hot breath against his neck.  Shallow and fast, but there.

“He is only stunned.”

Draco nearly jumps at the sound of the voice, seeming so loud in the soft early-morning darkness.  The voice itself however, coats Draco like a soft blanket and if there were not tears already in his eyes, there are now.  
  
Draco can only stare dumbly as, in a matter of seconds, Narcissa Malfoy absorbs the situation and goes into action.  She drops down across from Draco, pushing her long summer-weight dressing gown out of the way with a gentle sweep so she can kneel next to Brian.  She presses a calm hand to his chest, then runs her long fingers over his cheek.

“Yes, it is only a standard stunning charm. If a muggle is some how able to get through, they are stunned until they can be dealt with properly.”  She eyes Draco and how his arms are still around Brian.  “I assume this man is no enemy of yours?”

Draco gives her a jerky shake of his head, unable to speak.  Her lips flirt with the idea of a smile before she continues.   

“Alright.  Quimbly!”  Instantly, a short, wrinkled house-elf is by her side, bowing low to the ground, awaiting her order.  “I want you to take Mister…?”  She trails off, awaiting Draco's answer.    
  
“Kinney.”  Draco bursts out quickly.  “Brian Kinney.” 

“Very well,"  She levels a calm gaze at Draco, willing him to understand that everything is ok now and her eyes, a beautiful cobalt blue outlined with a hint of lavender, calm him.  
  
Even in the darkest part of the war, she was their family’s strength.  She would look at Draco, with her solid gaze, and make unspoken promises for his safety.  Beyond the Unbreakable Vow, beyond her ultimate status as a turncoat, it was always the stalwart, unwavering look in her eyes that anchored Draco.  That gave him hope. 

Perhaps that is why her deterioration after the war ended had been so impossible to bare.  To watch those steadfast eyes falter.  To be helpless when her constant and logical mind became muddled by hysterical notions and irrational panic. When Draco had left her, she had been a weak and fearful woman, locking herself away from society and the world.  She has been nothing like the mother he had known for his entire life.  And nothing like the woman sitting before him now.

The eyes that look at Draco now are filled with that familiar consistency.  That same conviction, inherited from the Black’s and confirmed by her Malfoy marriage.  Returned to their former glory, even as they fill with relief and love. 

"Please take Mister Kinney up to the guest suite in the East wing.  Put him in a clean nightshirt and make sure there are ample cooling charms cast on the rooms.  And,” She lifts one finger and the elf pauses once more.  “Place some pain potion next to the bed with some water.  This poor fellow is going to wake up one monster of a headache.” 

The elf nods and with a light touch to Brian’s shin and a snap of his fingers the pair are gone.   

This leaves Draco, sitting across from his mother.  His mind is numb.  His clothes are wet from sitting on the grass, damp with morning dew.  His stomach is still mildly nauseated and tight.  His eyes burn from too many tears shed.   

“Well my darling, you certainly do know how to make an entrance.” Her voice is light, almost crystalline.  “You had the wards going off like I’ve never heard them before.  Must have given them quite the fight.”

“So the wards scream bloody murder at 4 in the morning and you come running? How does that make any sense? It could have been an assassin, a rapist, a fucking werewolf!” 

“Language.”  She snaps in motherly fashion, a tone clearly not lost by the years apart of Draco's progressing age. “Besides,” She continues softly.  “I knew it was you.”

She reaches out her fingers.  Ghosting them over the skin of Draco's jaw as if needing to feel him to test his realness.  “Is it really you?  Have you really come back to me?”  

In the rush of the moment with Brian, the two of them had almost forgotten...   

_It has been two years.  Two years and a completely different life and yet here I am.  Home.   That time apart means nothing because I am here and she is here and..._

The reality of the situation hits them both at the same time. 

Draco throws himself across the small space Brian had occupied and into his mother’s waiting arms.  She cradles Draco close, rocking him back and forth gently in that instinctual way mothers do. 

He feels kisses pepper the crown of his head.  

“I’m here, mum.”  

“My darling Draco, I didn’t know where you were.  If you were alive.  I had no way to find you.  Even the Aurors didn’t know where to start looking"  
  
"I'm alright.  I've been safe."    
  
"But I knew tonight.  As soon as I heard the wards…somehow I just knew it had to be you.”

Draco clutches at her back, uncaring about how young and desperate he might look, sobbing gently into his mother’s robes. It has been one hell of an evening.  Confessing his love to Brian.  Attempting to tell him about being a wizard.  Traveling half way across the world with him by his side only to think, for an eternity of a moment, that Draco had lost him forever.  And now the tearful reunion with his mother.

He does not know how much more he can take.

Soon Draco's sobs turn to surprised laughs and their tears turn to giddy smiles.  Narcissa looks brilliant and healthy, the smile making her all the more radiant.

She pushes Draco away, keeping her hands on his shoulders and gives him an appraising look.  “You’ve gotten thin,”  She concludes.

“You’re such a mother.” Draco wipes at his nose.  

“Old habits die hard, my love.”  She smiles softly and sniffles.  Of course she manages to sound elegant when she does this instead of indecent.  “So, tell me about this muggle you’ve dragged along with you.  This… _Brian_.” 

Draco look down at his hands.  “He’s been there for me.”  Then Draco lifts his eyes to meet hers. “I love him.”

Narcissa tilts her head to the side in that manor that parents have perfected over the eons.  One that, all at once, expresses mild disappointment and worry and wonder at how this child of theirs could have grown up so fast.  
  
She sighs, long and slow and soft.  "I wonder what would your father say if he were still here?"  
  
In this private moment of reunification, Draco does not want to be intruded upon by memories of Lucius.  Draco feels a tingle down his spine as he juts his chin out defiantly.    
  
"You'll forgive me, mother, if I don't give a rat's arse what father would think.  If Brian has taught me anything, it is that my life need not be dictated by the legacy of him."  
  
Her lips turn up softly.  Proudly.  If not a little surprised.  "Well put, Draco."  She stands gracefully then offers Draco her hand.  "It would seem you've found yourself a smart muggle, in addition to a handsome one."

*

Sometime around seven AM, there is  a shift in Brian's breathing.  One quickly inhaled breath that expands his chest, only to be released in a long, slow sigh with a contented noise at the back of his throat.  He rolls onto his side and tucks his hand under his head.  It is then Draco knows he is sleeping instead of unconscious from the stunning charm.  And only then does he allow himself some reprieve from his bedside vigil.    
  
Not that Draco would have slept anyway.  He is simply too riled up to sleep.  Even though his body is beyond weary, aching with spent emotions and fatigue, he could not calm his mind down enough to rest.  Nor was he willing to leave Brian's side while the spell still affected him.     
  
But now that he is resting safely, Draco seeks to clear his head out on the veranda off of Brian's room.  The East wing guest suites are certainly the nicest at the Manor and Draco appreciates his mother's readiness to put Brian here.  Already a sign of her approval of him.  The bed he sleeps on is a massive, deep mattress set within a cherry frame.  A soft canopy sweeps over head and the bed is fitted with the finest linens in soft greens and blues.  The room is bit feminine and certainly too Victorian for Draco's tastes, but the richness of it translates regardless of style.  There is a wall of windows, which face north east.  Welcoming the morning sun while not blinding the sleeper.      
  
Draco rests his palms on the cool granite of the balustrade, breathing in the morning air.  It smells of mowed grass and roses.  Scents so strong Draco can almost taste them.  He looks out over the grounds, smiling softly when two peacocks strut arrogantly by, fulfilling their life's purpose by simply looking fabulous. The sun glints off the lake in the distance and Draco can see the thatched roof of the stables, the fluttering flags on the goal posts of the quidditch pitch beyond that.  
  
The opulence is staggering.  And it takes him a moment to remember that for the first 18 years of his life, this amount of luxury was not excessive, but expected.  His standard fair.  His status quo.  He cannot help but feel a better man for this change in perception.  Especially when the revelation that  _This is all mine now_  comes with no smug satisfaction but amazement.  
  
Draco hears a soft groan and the rustle of sheets and he returns to bedroom.  Brian is sitting up, blankets pooled around his waist, holding his head in both hands.  Draco has seen him look worse after a night at Babylon bu he leans against the door frame, not wanting to crowd him.  
  
Brian blinks at the bright sun filling the room.    
  
"What time is it?  
  
"Tomorrow.  You've only been asleep for about four hours, but with the time change..."  
  
"What happened?  Did I pass out?"  
  
"No, you were stunned unconscious by the magic protecting my family home."  
  
He rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands, before dropping them heavily to his lap.  "So... we really are we where I think we are?"    
  
"Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England."    
  
"England."  He repeats.  "You brought me to fucking England?"   The expression on his face is more disbelieving than pissed off and his tone more perplexed than mad.  Draco takes a few steps further into the room, coming to stand at the foot of the bed, nodding sheepishly to answer his question.  
  
"How?"  
  
Draco lifts his hand, showing him the ring.  "It's a called a portkey.  A normal object that, with the proper incantation, can transport you to a predetermined location.  In the case of this portkey, it's linked directly to this house."  
  
"That."  He says, pointing at Draco's  hand and ring.  "Sucked."  Draco laughs softly, happy to hear some familiar snark back in his voice and it gives him confidence to counter with some attitude of his own.    
  
"Well, you did ask me to prove it."  
  
"Something slightly less international would have sufficed."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"I don't know...saw me half then put me back together."  
  
"Brian,"  Draco glowers. "I'm a wizard, not some fucking cut rate magician.  Some respect, please."  Then Draco draws out his wand and twirls it between his fingers.  "However, if that is really the proof you need, I'm sure it could be arranged."   
  
Brian looks at Draco for a moment before understanding his joke and snorts.  The laugh quickly turns to a wince and Draco remembers the biting headache his mother had mentioned Brian would have.    
  
"Take this,"  Draco says, handing Brian the small vial of bright red potion.  "Pain potion.  For your head."  He gives Draco a look that questions his seriousness.  Draco encourages him to drink with a gesture of his hand.  He stares at the bottle for a few more moments, before he pulls off the cork and shoots it down in one go.  Before he even has time to taste the bitterness of the potion, his eyes snap up to Draco's face.  
  
"Feel better don't you?"  
  
"Tastes like shit but... that stuff is..."  
  
"Magical?"  Draco says, half mocking half serious.     
  
"Something like that, yeah."  Brian says slowly.  
  
Draco shows him the pile of clean clothes he had set out for him, even though Draco is still wearing the same grass-stained jeans and tear covered shirt from the night before.  Then Draco leads him to the bathroom attached to the bedroom, invites him to shower and freshen up.  Draco stands awkwardly apart from Brian while he does this, crossing his arms over his chest to prevent himself from reaching out to him.    
  
Draco has no idea where he stands with Brian any more.  Just because Brian is here, surprising him with his relatively well adjusted behavior, that doesn't mean he might still try to resist believing Draco.  And even if he doesn't resist it, that doesn't necessarily mean he's prepared to forgive Draco for six months of deceit.  Or that he'll want anything to do with Draco now that he knows what he is.      
  
He joins Draco back out on the veranda after a lengthy shower, looking awake and refreshed.  He's wearing some of Draco's old clothes, a pair of thin cotton pants fall over his bare feet and a pale linen shirt, the top few buttons open.  The outfit, of course, looks good on him because everything looks good on him even if the style is different from anything you've ever seen him in.  
  
"Everything fit?"  Draco asks, watching him approach.   
  
"The pants seem to have..." Brian clears his throat.  "Tailored themselves."  
  
"Many of the higher-end designers cast a self-tailoring charm on their fashions.  Saves their clientele time and money."  
  
He snorts.  "This whole magic thing is turning out to be pretty fucking convenient."  
  
Draco looks at him, jaw open, almost offended by the statement.  
  
"What?"  Brian  asks turning towards Draco, resting his hip against the stone wall.  
  
"Not more than five hours ago you were saying that magic was madness.  That I was insane for evening suggesting its existence and now...now it's convenient?"  
  
"Well I hadn't seen it five hours ago."  Brian says but quickly realizes, when Draco's rolls his eyes, that his explanation is insufficient and sighs.  He pauses, choosing his words carefully when he starts again.  "Look, it's like this.  My mother believes in God.  Some Christian deity which the church has told her exists.  They have their books and their scholarship and their history, but they have no proof.  No tangible evidence for the divine, of God's alleged plan, his... supposed benevolence."  He sighs heavily.  The bitterness of his words so strong Draco's taste buds fire.  "I think she's a fool.  Following blindly like she does.  But then again, I suppose that is why they call it faith.  She still hopes that some day I'll believe too.  Expects me to accept this thing that thousands of years of science and reason haven't been able to prove.  Not conclusively.  So I suppose when you first told me about all this..."  He sweeps his hand up towards the house and out over the lawns, "I felt like you were doing the same thing."  
  
"Which was what exactly?"  
  
"Asking for me to believe something that shouldn't be possible."    
  
"But now?"    
  
He looks out over the Manor grounds.  Clarity and calm on his features.  "Now I'd be the fool to deny something I've seen with my own eyes.  Something I've felt and experienced.  If God were able to fly me from Pittsburgh to England in a matter of minutes, then maybe I'd believe in him too."  
  
There is silence for a moment as important words seep in.  
  
"So...that's it then?"  Draco says.  "You believe me, case closed, three cheers for magic?"  Draco pumps his fist pathetically and Brian smirks, his body language changing.  It immediately becomes more open, more inviting.  When he crosses his feet at the ankles, his hips jutting out towards Draco, he is  helpless against the pull of his attraction.  Draco's hand finds Brian's his hip, while his hand presses the small of Draco's back.  
  
"Yeah, I guess that's it."  He breathes.  "Surprised?"  
  
"Imensely."  
  
"Not nearly as surprised as me,"  He says softly, meeting Draco's eyes.  They soon drift lower and settle on Draco's lips.  Draco feels the anticipation of what is coming next curl in his belly, his mouth positively aching for the touch of his.      
  
It seems to take a decade for his face to move in front of Draco's.  But finally, Brian's mouth closes softly around Draco's upper lip, applying just enough pressure to engage the kiss.  Gently tasting the pink flesh.  Draco's mouth curls around his lower lip, delicately sucking the plump flesh that finds itself in his mouth.   It feels like a proper first kiss.  One they might have had if, on the night they had first spent together, their intention had been to fall in love instead of just fuck. It is little more than a lingering peck.  No hungry mouths.  No probing tongues.  But no less erotic for that fact.  Draco appreciates every millimeter of Brian's lips.  The pant of breath on his face and he feels his cock stir to life.  As Draco takes one final step to bring their chests together, he realizes that for all the time Brian has ravished his mouth with passionate, fiery kisses, sometimes it is the most simple and tender touches that are the most arousing.    
  
Especially when this kiss comes with so much acceptance behind it.   
  
Narcissa's surprised "Oh!" from the doorway, however, is a horribly timed sound.  
  
The kiss ends abruptly, and Brian almost growls in annoyance.  His face is still temptingly close, his chestnut fringe caught up in Draco's blond  hair.  
  
"Your mother?"  He asks, just loud enough for Draco to hear.  Draco nods.  "We are not done here."  Draco nods again.

"Hello mother,"Draco calls.  Narcissa peaks around the doorway.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt boys,"  She says as Draco extracts himself from Brian's arms.  
  
"I'm sure you are,"  Draco grumbles, crossing his arms.      
  
His mother, not at all flustered by his complaint, turns to Brian.  Her blond hair done up in a tasteful twist, leaving her neck long and pale with her head perched elegantly on top.  "Mr. Kinney, you have no idea how relieved I am to find you on two feet this morning."  
  
It takes him a moment, but the smile that he finally manages to put on his face could not be described as anything but debonair.  He extends his hand, walking towards her.  "Mrs. Malfoy, pleased to meet you.  I can honestly say it was something I never thought would happen."      
  
Draco watches them as they exchange pleasantries, insisting that they call each other by their first names.  Draco is taken for a moment by the pair of them.  Elegant and refined as they face each other.  Sizing each other up.  Draco now knows how Brian felt that night at the diner when he first met Debbie.  Nervous and eager for her approval.  But also exceedingly proud because, just as Draco had, Brian holds his own and the twinkle in his mother's eye is a very good sign.  After all, there is no one in the world who could not be wooed by Brian Kinney.  
  
"If you have no objections, darling, I'd like to borrow Brian for a bit.  Take him on a tour of the Manor, answer any questions he might have.  Which I'm sure are many."  Brian's silence and reluctant look confirm her suspicions.  Draco's mother bats her eyelashes at him.  "You are many wonderful things, my son, but I'm not so sure that 'apt teacher' is one of them.  It would seem your teaching style is more of 'show' rather than 'tell' variety and this situation calls for a great deal of finesse."  Draco rolls his eyes even as she comes over to cup his face in her hand.  "Go take a shower.  Get some rest.  Put on some clean clothes."  She manages to partially suppress a grimace at the condition and simple muggle-ness of Draco's clothes.  "You look a fright."  
  
"Thank you, mother,"  He says, dryly.  
  
"Just calling it like I see it."  She says cheerfully as she picks up the hem of her robes and glides out of the room.  Brian moves to follow her, but then Draco calls out his name.  
  
He turns back towards Draco, hands in his pockets.  "If she tells you some story about Pinky, an invisible house elf I used to talk to, just ignore her.  It's...complete bullshit."  Brian nods, furrowing his brow seriously.  Even as he bites his lips, trying to fight off the large, toothy smile that is about to overwhelm his face.     
  
Draco laughs out loud once he is alone.  Suddenly finding himself in the last place he expected: a place where everything is working out better than he could have ever imagined.  A place where Brian hadn't queened out (too much) about the existence of magic, but found a rational reason to accept it.  Draco wonders why he hadn't trusted him with the truth in the first place when the truth feels so simple now.  Easy.  
  
_Almost too easy._  

*

Yes, the truth feels easy.  And surprisingly so.  But also, in Draco's case, the truth remains incomplete.  
  
There is still the unavoidable issue of the Mark on his arm.  
  
It stares up at him while he showers.  It's ugly, serpentine shape standing out darkly even through the milky white lather.  The hollow eyes of the skull seem to twinkle with smug glee as Draco towels off his skin.  His sleeveless robes, so necessary in today's torpid heat, provide no cover, leaving it in plain sight for all the world to see and for Draco to lament.    
  
He wanders through the halls of the Manor, remembering the night he had taken the Dark Mark.  He had seen it as an honor then.  The youngest man ever to be made a Death Eater.  He had knelt on the hard marble floor of the ballroom, bowing his head because he thought swearing his allegiance to the Dark Lord would be enough.  Enough to prove that their family was loyal and deserving.  But instead, along with his Mark, Draco was given his condition: Kill Dumbledore or watch his family face the Dark Lord's wrath.  A simple, brutal ultimatum with no room for mistakes or second chances.  So can anyone blame Draco that he had tried, with all his might, to do just that?     
  
Even though his skin is hot from the summer heat, he feels a shiver run through him at the memories.  He wonders how his mother continues to live here alongside so many ghosts. 

He strolls outside, finally finding some solace in the summer sun, surrounded by roses, blooming pink and yellow.       
  
He is resolute in his decision for Brian to know about what side he was on during the war and what that side stood for.  The only way to alleviate the guilty panic that bubbles in his chest is to confess fully, down to every last detail.  He has already told Brian so much, he cannot allow himself to stop half way.  He owes himself this much.  Even if that means losing Brian.   
  
Draco doesn't hear the footsteps coming up behind him on the gravel path, still so caught up in his own thoughts.    
  
But he does hear the soft whistle.   
  
"Look at you,"  Brian says, falling into step next to Draco.   _  
_  
"Like what you see?"  Draco grins, smoothing his hands over the white fabric covering his chest.  His fingers rumble over the long line of buttons that reach from his collar bone all the way to his belt line.  The robes tight around his torso, fall open at the waist in four soft panels, exposing his legs covered in a pair of snug trousers in a similarly lightweight fabric.  Draco see Brian's eyes linger on his dragon hide thongs and again on the bare skin of his defined arms.   
  
He looks at Draco as if he is seeing him for the first time and in some ways he is.  Draco the Wizard.  Draco the monied heir.  Draco the man who loves him.  And even though his gaze is warm and lingering, Draco cannot help but be reminded of what cannot be hidden, of what remains to be told.  
  
"I always like looking at you."  His leans in, to whisper the words by Draco's ear, shoulders bumping as they walk.  "Do you...normally dress like this?"    
  
"Something along these lines, yes.  But I will admit, I've gotten pretty used to the jeans and tee shirt route too."  
  
"No, no, no.  This looks good on you."  He meets Draco's eyes.  "Magic looks good on you.  Your skin's brighter.  Hair looks healthier."  
  
"That's just the expensive hair potion."  
  
He glances at Draco out of the corner of his eye, then snorts.  "You certainly do know how to live here, don't you?  Your mother showed me around.  The house and the grounds... this isn't a house.  It's a fucking castle."  
  
Draco smiles softly, almost sadly.  "There are no kings in the magical world... but there are Malfoy's."   
  
Silence settles over them as they walk and as Draco tries to rustle up enough courage for his third and final admittance.  It is perhaps the most difficult of the three because it isn't how he feels or what he is, but _how_ he once behaved, what he once believed.  
  
Draco stops, squaring his shoulders.    
  
"There is something I still need to tell you, Brian."   
  
Brian  stops, a few paces further down the path and looks back at Draco.  Surprised when his words and expression are fraught with so much worry.  Draco waits until Brian walks back to stand in front of him, steadying himself with one breath before speaking the words that have been weighing heavily on him since that night Perry, the malicious trick, so painfully reminded Draco of their truth.  
  
"I am not a good man."     
  
A confused look passes over Brian's face.  "What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"There is a time in my life I wish I could take back.  When I saw things... _did_ things...more evil and vile than you could possibly imagine.  I didn't want to do the things I did.  Didn't really have a choice one way or the other or believe in the reason why these things had to be done but that doesn't change the fact that I still did them... "  
  
"Draco."  Brian grasps Draco's hand, cutting off his diatribe.  "We are done speaking in vagaries.  If you're talking about the war... about this..."  Brian's large palm envelopes his left forearm, his fingers curling tenderly around that hated swath of skin.  "You don't have to explain it.  Your mother told me."  
  
"She did?"      
  
Brian nods solemnly.  "She told me about purebloods and the war and...Vanderbilt, or whatever the fuck his name was."  Draco stifles a noise at hearing the Dark Lord talked about so flippantly.  "And she told me about what you did to save her.  To save your father, even if he was undeserving of that risk."     
  
"She makes it all sound so fucking noble."  
  
"Well in her eyes, it was.  She'd be dead if you hadn't followed big Vandy's orders."   
  
"No excuses though, right, Brian?"  Draco snaps, snatching his arm away from him, throwing that tried and true Kinney mantra back in his face.  "Isn't that what you always tell people?"  Brian stares, helpless as Draco's temper flares.  "I aligned myself with a murderer, Brian.  Swore to follow a man who wanted to kill people like you.  There is no excuse in the universe big enough for that."   
  
"No, there isn't.  But there is a pretty damn good reason why you had to.  Look, it's like I always tell Michael, it's not lying if they make you lie.  You're not a bad man because he made you obey.  Because they left you with no other choice."   
  
"It's not that simple.  Father had been expecting me to fight at his side since I was 12 years old."    
  
"Exactly. No other choice."    
  
Draco glances back at him when he realizes Brian is right.  Draco's hands had been tied long before he ever felt the bonds.  And if it wasn't Voldemort, it had been his father tightening the knots.  His fate might not have been prophesied like Potter's, kept on a shelf in some hidden corner of the Ministry but it had been just as certain.  Draco is left feeling very young and very foolish.  In an instant, Brian's arms are around him, tucking his head in the crook of Draco's neck.   

And then he is left feeling immeasurably grateful.    
  
"It's all over, Dra.  That isn't who you are.  Not then and certainly not now.  Just...give it time."    
  
After a few moments of repose in his strong arms Draco pulls back to look at him.    
  
"I've told you how much I adore you, right?"    
  
A silly smirk forms on Brian's face.  "You might have mentioned it."  
  
Draco's mouth opens easily for him, tasting forgiveness with a definite hint of something more wanton.  It does not take long for the kiss to swerve down that lustful path.  Joined by roaming hands and steadily increasing sounds of need.  Brian's hands sneak in between the front two panels of Draco's robes, moving over the top of his thighs, round his hips and finally behind to cup his ass.  He yanks Draco's hips forward, pressing their growing erections together.  There is always something electric, amazing, about feeling Brian's cock hard for him.  To have confirmed, in that pulsing length of flesh, that Draco stirs the same kind of desperate need in Brian's body that he awakens in his.     
  
"I believe you and I have some unfinished business to attend to," He growls, biting at Draco's neck.  "And if I don't get you to a bedroom in the next five seconds, I'm going to have to fuck you right here.  In the middle of the lawn."  
  
"Well, we can't have that.  I'd get grass stains."   
  
Brian barely has time to laugh before Draco apparates the both of them into his bedroom.   Brian's lips are still frozen in a pout from the kiss, his hands still firmly grasping Draco's ass, as he takes in the room and realizes what has happened.   
  
"When I said five seconds, I didn't realize you'd take me so literally."   
  
"I aim to please."  Draco says and with a firm shove to the middle of Brian's chest, he lands on Draco's bed. 

It is a high, four-poster much like the one in the guest suites, but the duvet cover and pillows are decked out in much darker tones.  Forest green and blacks.  Remnants of the moody teenager who last lived here.  The moody teenager who never did more than wank between those sheets and is now getting ready to break them in properly   
  
Brian settles himself in the middle of the bed, watching Draco undress as he slowly undoes his fly.  Draco sweeps his fingers over the buttons on his robe with a quick unfastening charm.  The buttons jumping out of their holes in an orderly fashion.  He slips the robes off over his shoulders and let his pants fall into a small pile, before crawling onto the bed, straddling Brian's hips.    
  
Brian has Draco on his back soon enough, though, taking control of the situation and the pace.  Love making is an art form to Brian.  And like a proper Don Juan, he takes his technique seriously.  Perfected over countless hours.  And men.  Yet, when Draco is with him, there is no thought of previous lovers.  Draco's or Brian's.  Because when they are together, each touch seems unique.  Like Brian is inventing them just for him.  Doing those little things that he knows drive Draco simply mad: the rake of his nails against his rib cage.  The slow drag of his tongue up his inner thigh.  The breathless sigh of Draco's name.   
  
A sheen of sweat coats Draco's skin in the mid afternoon heat.  Their bodies slick against each other.  Forcing Draco to wrap himself all the tighter around him.  Linking his calves behind his knees and his fingers into his matted hair.  The sweat eases his passage between Draco's thighs.  And more than once, as Brian rolls his hips against Draco's, he feels Brian's naked cock slip between them and come deliciously close to gaining entrance.  There is no hope denying how much Draco want to feel him like that.  Naked.  Raw.  And from the frustrated noises and sneer on Brian's lips each time he is forced to pull away, Draco can tell he's thinking of it too.  
  
When it happens a third time, Brian, with an exasperated sigh, gets off the bed to a get a condom out of his wallet, returning to Draco's side with the small foil package.  
  
"Bri..."  Draco say softly.  "We don't need that."  
  
He looks at Draco, face pained.  "I know I've been with you more often than not, but I haven't stopped tricking.  Not completely."  
  
"I know that.  I'm not asking you to..."  
  
"I will not fuck you unprotected."  
  
"But you wouldn't be."  Draco takes his wand in one hand and Brian's hand in the other.  A whisper later and Brian's first two fingers are coated in lube.  The spell Draco had uttered is one he first read about in Wizard's Weekly when he was 14 and have used with every lover ever since.    
  
"There's a spell for that?"  Brian asks, running his thumb through the satiny coating.  
  
"You'll find there is a spell for just about everything."  Draco takes Brian's wrist and guide his fingers towards his entrance, whimpering softly as he feels the muscles and tendons of Brian's hand work as they press inside.  "There is a strong prophylactic property to the lube in addition to other attributes."  Draco shudders softly as some of those attributes, like the small, rumbling vibrations it emits, take effect.  "There is nothing you could possibly have that would get through it.  It's total protection, just without the latex."  
  
Brian fingers Draco gently, sliding in and out of Draco smoothly, spreading the lube, watching as he does, as if trying to imagine what it would feel like if it were his cock and not just his fingers pressed inside him.  "Christ, Draco...Fuck you?  Bareback?"  He whispers the last word and Draco can hear the indecision in his voice.  "I just...I can't..."  Draco cups his face, forcing his dark eyes towards him.  
  
"I won't pressure you into doing it,"  Draco's chest heaves, desperately aroused.  "But all the same, you've believed me so far."  Brian' tries to look away, but Draco holds his face steady.  "I want to feel you, Brian.  You alone inside me.  Nothing between us."  
  
His gaze redoubles in intensity at the last sentence.  Clearly picking up on Draco's double meaning.    
  
"Nothing between us,"  He repeats, his fingers curling deep within Draco's body.  Draco groans.    
  
"Never again."  

It is a promise not of fidelity or monogamy but of something Brian swore to give Draco a long time ago, something Draco can finally give him now: the complete truth.  And utter trust.    
  
Brian weighs his options for a moment, biting his thumb between his teeth, the unopened condom package still between his fingers.  It seems to take forever, an eternity Draco is willing to wait through, but eventually he puts the condom on the side table.  Pushes himself up onto his hands.  Settles between Draco's legs and aligns his cock with Draco's lube wet hole.    
  
The press of Brian's body into Draco's is sweeter than he could have imagined.  There is no pinch of penetration, the unnatural presence of rubber.  Only the graceful pressure of Brian filling Draco.  Skin on skin.  Hot and silky and defined.  Brian's arms tremble as he supports his upper body.  Looking down at Draco with an expression not to be forgotten.

Draco sees wonder and awe.  Slight trepidation that he is actually doing this.  Intense concentration.  And yes, so clearly, Draco sees love.    
  
His body curls in towards Brian as he finally begins to move, dropping his body against Draco's chest.  Legs, arms, head, all strain to encompass his steadily rocking form.  Wishing there was some way Draco could pull all of him inside him, not just the rapturous movement of his cock.  The moist skin of his belly slips over the head of Draco's dick with every thrust.  There are no words which ably express how amazing Draco feels.  How close he feels to Brian.  How valued and safe and wanted.  So Draco lets his sighs speak for him.  His fingertips.  His lips.  
  
It is not a long or protracted session.  Far too intense, physically and emotionally, for either of them to last long.  Draco gets off before Brian does, the other man's sexual control far stronger than him.  White beads of cum dot Draco's belly and chest.  Then Brian grimaces, his face so constricted he looks like he is pain.  The cries at the back of his throat higher and more urgent than Draco have ever heard.  In those last few seconds, before completion is unavoidable, he pulls out of Draco's body, going to his knees as he comes, shooting hot threads of spunk over Draco's chest, pooling next to his.      
  
And finally Draco find a word.  Several in fact.  
  
"Oh Jesus fuck."  
  
Because Brian is not done.    
  
He starts at Draco's spent cock, licking the pearl of cum that still lingers at the slit.  Tonging it softly.  Then he moves to Draco's public bone, lapping up a line of semen and inhaling deeply.  He moves up Draco's belly, his tongue licking the white drops off his damp skin, licking Draco clean until every inch of his torso is spotless and every drop of their mutual expulsion has been savored. 

He kisses Draco once he reaches his lips, delving his tongue deep into Draco's mouth.  Showing him what the two of them taste like when melded together.  A perfect mixture of musk and life.  Brian collapses on top of him, boneless and breathless.  Draco closes his eyes, whisper words of reverence against Brian's temple and lets his body sing.  
  
When Draco next opens his eyes, the sky outside is purple with the low light of a hazy evening.  Brian is sprawled next to him on his stomach, his head cradled in his arms.  Simply seeing Brian in his bed makes Draco smile.  He places a light kiss against his shoulder before getting out of bed. 

Draco pulls on his pants and notices a small tray of food has been placed just on the inside of the door.  Fruit, bread, a small wedge of cheese and most excitingly of all, a carafe of pumpkin juice.  Draco pours himself  a small glass, sipping the long missed drink while he reads the sheaf of parchment folded on the tray.  
  
_Darlings,_  
  
Draco laugh softly through his nose at his mother's choice of salutation.   
  
_Assumed you would not be down for tea, so I had Quimbly send something up.  I do hope you boys can find the time to eat something.  And can manage to pull yourselves away from each other long enough to join me for breakfast in the rose garden tomorrow morning.  Shall we say 9 am?  
  
Until then,  
  
Yours, NBM  
_  
With a smile and a mental promise that they will make it to breakfast, Draco pops a grape or two into his mouth.  The sighing breeze outside, lifting the thin curtains hanging across the wide open doors call to him.    
  
The balcony off of Draco's bedroom is much larger with a small table and several lounge chairs.  He drops into one and looks up at the sky as the stars begin to come out.  Draco is not surprised when Brian joins him shortly, as he seems uninterested or unable to sleep alone.  Without a word he sinks into the chair opposite Draco and lights two cigarettes, offering one to Draco.  He takes it and lets the nicotine relax him even further.  
  
He feels so very at peace.  His mind uncluttered by doubt or guilt or uncertainty for the first time in as long as he can remember.  And now, unencumbered by these emotions, he is able to dream, to imagine any number of paths his life could go down, all leading to new and exciting things.     
  
Draco puts his cigarette out, flicking it up in the air and banishing it with a flick of his wand before it has the chance to hit the ground.   
  
"Show off,"  Brian says.  
  
"I was never going to tell you, you know.  That I am a wizard."    
  
Brian exhales some smoke.  "I'm glad you did."  
  
"Me too.  Keeping it all a secret...it was getting to be too much.  Too hard.  I felt so bloody guilty keep it from you."   
  
"Is that what made you change your mind?"  
  
"That and other things.  Like the fact the fact that I fell in love with you."  Draco smile bashfully at him and he returns the furtive look.  "And that I was reminded how impossible it is to escape your past.  No matter how much you might try to deny it."  
  
"You should never deny this part of yourself, Draco.  Certainly not for my sake.  This world, it's...mind-blowing.  It explains so much of why I found you..."  He stops when he realizes he is about to admit something Brian Kinney normally doesn't.  That he had been drawn to Draco on a far deeper level from the outset.  But instead of leaving the sentence incomplete, he reaches for his hand.  "Why I _find_ you so amazing."    
  
Draco gives his hand a tight squeeze.  
  
"I belong here, Brian.  In the magical world."    
  
"Of course you do."  Brian's hand goes limp in his.  "It's where you grew up.  What you know..."   
  
"But I can't stay here."  Draco says, almost as if Brian had never started speaking in the first place.  "Not in this house.  Not in this country.  We may all have ghosts from the past, but that doesn't mean we have to live with them every day, right?" 

Brian looks at him.   
  
"So what then?"  
  
Draco takes a deep breath.  
  
"I'm thinking New York."  
  
"New York?"  
  
"Yeah, I could finish school.  Then go on for a potions mastery or Auror training what ever the hell I want to, I suppose. And since your move is imminent..."  
  
"You don't know that."  He protests, pulling away.   
  
"Yes, I do.  It'll happen, Brian.  You're brilliant and it's only a matter of time before the right job finds you."  Draco states, moving to settle his legs on either side of Brian's lap.  He wraps his arms around Brian's neck. "And when it does, I was hoping you'd considering getting a place with me."  
  
"Move in together?"  Brian's brows shoot up his head.  
  
"We don't have to decide this second, but think about it."  Draco shifts his voice to something more provocative.  "Because between your New York salary and my vast inheritance, just imagine the place we could get."      
  
His eyes twinkle as he does just that.  "God, it would make my loft look like your shit-hole apartment."  
  
"Whatch it!"  Draco shouts, with a playful smack to the upside his head.  Brian smiles brilliantly, laughing until Draco kisses the teasing grin right off his face.  Several minutes of kissing and their bodies are in need of more serious contact.  So with a gentle pull of his hand, Draco takes him back inside, ready for the beauty of what comes next.  
  
And Draco is left feeling certain of Brian's love without the need to hear the word.  Consumed by Brian's affection without the distracting trappings of romance. Certain of his importance in Brian's life without titles or agreements.  There is exclusivity without monogamy.  Acceptance in the face of the impossible.  And an endless future stretching out in front of them without the need for promises of forever. It is a relationship that is uniquely of their own making. One that will provide the cornerstone to a life waiting to be lived.     
  
It is good and it is theirs.  
  
And so it begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt, during the writing of this entire verse, that the Brian Kinney in my Queer as Magic Verse, is the Brian Kinney I imagined he had the potential of becoming in the show if he had been given the opportunity to progress as a person and as a partner by the writers. And if he had been given a partner like Draco Malfoy who pushed him in ways Justin didn't.
> 
> I never feel like Brian becomes OOC, he just grows. Matures. And yes, he falls in love and by the end of the last part (In Search of What Comes Easy) he may or may not even be ready to confess that.
> 
> Just thought I'd put that out there. Thanks!


End file.
